


the light that turns atop her tower

by gilligankane



Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: F/F, Gen, that's it that's the story, this is a story about a lighthouse keeper
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-01
Updated: 2020-09-24
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:21:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 80,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23432320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gilligankane/pseuds/gilligankane
Summary: “One day,” her aunt would whisper in her ear. “One day, this is going to be yours, Nicole. This will be your lighthouse and you will be its keeper.” She’d curl an arm around Nicole’s shoulders. “You will be the protector of all the things in the water. The ships and their captains. The fishers and their boats. The mermaids and the sirens and the selkies.” She’d press a kiss to the top of Nicole’s head. “Especially them.”
Relationships: Waverly Earp/Nicole Haught
Comments: 226
Kudos: 748





	1. some miles away, the lighthouse lifts its massive masonry

**Author's Note:**

> A prompt blew in off the sea breeze and landed in my lap the way seagull shit lands on cars at the beach. This is just as messy as that. But it's here and I'm writing it and we're in isolation, so let's get this started.

“And so it is  
that as he gazes out, he cannot help

but wonder what it is he might be warning of  
with the light that turns atop his tower,”  
Mark Waldron, _The Lighthouse Keeper_

a

“I’ve only loved two things in my life,” Nicole’s aunt used to say to her. “You and the sea.” She used to sweep her arm along the horizon and Nicole’s eyes would follow, looking at the line where the sky met the sea. “That’s all I’ll ever need.” She’d rest a hand on the sun-warm stone behind her. 

“Well,” she’d smile. “That and this lighthouse.”

Nicole would follow her up the worn steps, gripping the metal railing of the winding staircase until she got to the very top. The windows of the lantern room stretched up to the cupola, taller than even Nicole’s aunt. She would press her face to the windows, watching the sea crash into the rocks below them.

“One day,” her aunt would whisper in her ear. “One day, this is going to be yours, Nicole. This will be your lighthouse and you will be its keeper.” She’d curl an arm around Nicole’s shoulders. “You will be the protector of all the things in the water. The ships and their captains. The fishers and their boats. The mermaids and the sirens and the selkies.” She’d press a kiss to the top of Nicole’s head. “Especially them.”

Nicole would whisper back, “I can’t wait.”

-

“Come here,” her aunt whispers.

Nicole is on her feet quickly, crossing the room in large strides. She takes her aunt’s hand, too cool in her own. “You should be resting.”

Her aunt shakes her head. “There are too many things to tell you.”

“You can tell me tomorrow.” Nicole forces a smile. “There’ll be time.”

“There’s no time, Nicole.” She takes a shuddering breath. “I’m running out of time.”

Tears burn at the back of Nicole’s eyes, but she blinks them back. She won’t break down. She’ll be strong. She has to be strong. There will be a time to be weak, later when everything crashes down. For now, she needs to hold them both up. To get them through this storm and steer them home.

“The lighthouse will be yours.” Her aunt grimaces through a ripple of pain. “I’ve written it into my will that everything goes to you. And you’ll have to take care of it, Nicole.” She sighs heavily, gathering her breath. “The lantern will need replacing soon and-”

“I already called Doc Holliday down at the store,” Nicole reassures her. “The guys down at the dock said the light is still good for a few miles out, but Doc is going to come by and replace it.” She trusts the fisherman and they trust her.

“And check the windows. Since that storm, we-”

“I know,” Nicole says softly. “I’m already redoing the frames. They’ll be ready for the winter, I promise.”

Her aunt smiles softly. “Of course they will.” She sits up a little and Nicole adjusts the pillow underneath her. “You’ll have to bring those ships in. Lead them home. It’s our job. To protect the sea and everything in it. Fisherman, ships.” She pauses. “The mermaids.”

Nicole’s heart clenches in her chest. “The mermaids,” she repeats.

Her aunt coughs weakly. “Don’t you start with that, Nicole Haught. I’ve told you before and I’ll tell you a hundred more. There are mermaids out there.”

“Sirens and selkies, too,” Nicole finishes. “I know.”

Her aunt looks over her face, studying it until Nicole feels like she should shift in her seat. “But you don’t believe. Not like you used to.”

“I’m not ten anymore,” Nicole says softly. “Mermaids and selkies… They’re myths. They can’t really exist. They’re tall tales the old fishermen tell.”

Her aunt shakes her head. “They’re not just pretend, Nicole. They’re real. My father-” She starts to cough, sagging forward with the effort.

Nicole steadies her and guides her back against the pillows. “Rest,” she says. “We can talk tomorrow after you’ve gotten some sleep.”

Her aunt nods weakly, sinking into the pillows. Nicole pulls a dark blue comforter up around her, tucking it gently in against her sides. “Tomorrow,” she promises. “You’ll believe me tomorrow.”

Nicole stays up all night, sitting near the fireplace with a book unopened in her lap. She thinks about moving in with her aunt and learning the nooks and the crannies of the lighthouse. How to change the bulb of the lantern. How to guide the ships to shore. How to navigate the window walk. 

She counts the minutes to tomorrow, but tomorrow never comes after all.

-

Nicole’s aunt stretches her arms above her head, yawning. “You don’t know the story?”

Nicole shakes her head, leaning in towards her aunt. Her dark blue comforter bunches up around her waist. It reminds her of the sea when it gets dark and the water is angry. “No. Daddy didn’t like stories.”

Her aunt scowls a little bit. It’s quick, there and gone again when Nicole blinks sleepily. “Your father was always like that. Always interested in the facts, never using his imagination.” She smiles gently. “But enough about him, right?”

 _Enough about him_ , Nicole thinks. 

“Our father told us this story when we were your age. In this very room.” Her aunt nudges her over until they’re sitting side by side on the bed. She points across the room at the painting of the lighthouse on the wall. “He told us that when he was younger, when his father was a lighthouse keeper, that he met a selkie.”

Nicole frowns. “What’s a selkie?”

Her aunt smiles widely. “Do you know where Scotland is?”

Nicole thinks about it. “Quebec?”

Her aunt laughs a little. “No. It’s near the North Sea, thousands of kilometers away. And they tell a story about a selkie. It’s called mythology. A story people pass down through the years. People tell their children and their children tell their children. And one of these myths is about a selkie, the sea’s most magical creature.”

“It’s real?”

“Of course,” her aunt says firmly. “They’re beautiful. Kinder than mermaids and sirens. Mermaids are mischievous, you see. And sirens lure sailors into the sea, only to never give them back. But selkies…” She sighs softly. “Selkies are gentle and sweet.”

Nicole eyes her skeptically. “Do they have tails like mermaids?”

“No, no.” Her aunt pats her hand gently. “No. When they’re on land, they’re human. Legs and arms, just like you and me.”

“And when they’re in the water?”

Her aunt lowers her voice like she’s whispering a secret no one can know. “They’re seals.”

Nicole frowns. “Seals?”

“Seals. With smooth, leathery skin. It helps them slide through the water.” Her aunt winks at her. “Much better than a mermaid’s tail. They’re fast. Sleek. S-l-e-e-k. There’s a spelling word for you the next time Ms. Lucado asks for a bonus word.”

Nicole repeats the letters over in her head before she focuses back on her aunt. “Seals,” she repeats. “They can’t be seals. I learned about seals in class and seals aren’t humans. They’re… mammals, I think. They flop around on land like big fishes.”

Her aunt shakes her head. “Not selkies. These are special seals. When they come on land, they shed their skin and hide it away.”

Nicole sits up a little bit. “They hide it away?”

“It’s called their pelt. The skin. They shed it.” Her aunt nods confidently. “Their pelt is the most important thing about them. It’s magic.”

“Magic?”

“Their pelt is the most important thing to them,” her aunt repeats. “People say, that if you take a selkie’s pelt, they can’t go back into the water. They stay human until they get it back.”

Nicole frowns. “Why would someone want to take their pelt away?”

Her aunt shrugs a shoulder. “Some people are selfish, you know. Some people take and take what doesn’t belong to them. The selkies belong to the sea. Just like you and I belong to the sea.”

“I don’t shed my skin.” Nicole shudders just thinking about it.

Her aunt laughs. “No, honey. You don’t. But fish belong to the sea and they don’t shed their skin, do they?” She waits for Nicole’s nod. “The sea is home to so many amazing things. There’s a whole world just below the water’s surface. We can’t even begin to know everything about it. We can only protect it and care for it.”

Nicole thinks about it for a minute. It sounds like a lot of responsibility. She learned that word last year, at her old school. She has to protect the _whole_ sea? She’s only ten. Can’t she start with something smaller? She peers up at her aunt. “And your dad’s dad-”

“My grandfather,” her aunt says. 

“Your grandfather. He met a selkie.”

Her aunt nods. “A beautiful woman with long golden hair. She promised him she’d come back for him someday. He waited in the lighthouse tower for years, looking for her on the rocks each night. But each night passed and she wasn’t there. He met my grandmother and fell in love with her, but he never forgot about the beautiful woman who came from the sea.”

Nicole stares at her for a minute, wondering if she should believe her aunt of not. “It sounds like a story.”

“A story is just the truth told over and over again.” Her aunt stands up, yawning again. “It’s past your bedtime, though. And you need to be up early so you’re not late for school again.” She smiles gently.

Nicole shuffles down until she’s laying on her back, her mouth working over some words before she says them out loud. “Will I meet a selkie?” she asks. She holds her breath, waiting to hear the answer.

Her aunt, kissing her forehead as she pulls the comforter up high around Nicole’s shoulders. “If you’re lucky enough, you’ll meet a selkie. And I have a feeling, Nicole Haught, that you are going to be very, very lucky.”

Nicole shimmies down under the covers and stares at the light-up stars on the ceiling above her. Argo the ship and Pisces the fish. Her aunt put them up the first night she moved in, clustering them right above Nicole’s pillow. “The sea will watch over you,” she had said as she tucked Nicole into bed.

She pauses at the door now, her hand over the light switch. “Have good dreams,” she says quietly. 

Nicole blinks sleepily. “Good night.”

She dreams about a woman with long brown hair climbing up out of the ocean while seals swim off behind her.

-

“I’m so sorry for your loss,” the priest says. He presses a hand against Nicole’s, gaining her attention. “Your aunt was loved by this community.”

Nicole looks back at the people idling at the bottom of the lighthouse, the soft chatter calming somehow. “I know,” she says quietly.

Doc from the hardware store tips his hat at her, eyes soft and kind. Xavier Dolls, the handyman who helped her put in the windows, lifts a hand at her. The community did love her aunt and they’re here now to celebrate her life. _Celebrate it_ , her aunt had said. _Don’t mourn it. Just send me into the sea when it’s all over_.

She holds the urn against her side, cradling its weight. It’s smooth, wooden. Randy Nedley had made it by hand, sanding down the sides and shaping it into a dinghy, Sarah Haught stenciled into the side. She would love it, Nicole knows. She would love how Nicole is going to place it at the edge of the rock and push it out into the waves. 

“Nicole,” someone says softly.

Nicole looks up and smiles at Chrissy. “Hey.”

Chrissy squeezes her shoulder gently. “How’re you?”

Nicole pushes out a smile. “I’m okay. We knew… We knew this was going to happen.”

“It doesn’t make it any easier.” Chrissy drops her hand, her arm against Nicole’s. “I remember what it was like when my mom passed. We knew it was going to happen, but…”

“But you didn’t believe it,” Nicole finishes. She breathes in deeply. “Neither did I.” She looks past the lighthouse to the sea. “Do you think there’re things out there?”

Chrissy stares at the water. “Like what?” she says after a minute.

Nicole exhales noisily. “Mermaids. Sirens.” She pauses. “Selkies.”

“I know what my dad has told me.” Chrissy sways again, pressing into Nicole’s side a little tighter. The urn sticks between them. “He’s told me stories for years. He used to say that my mom was a selkie. That when she died, she was just returning to the sea.” She glances over Nicole’s shoulder at her father standing with the other fisherman. “I think he told himself because it hurt him so much to lose her.”

“She believed in all that stuff.” Nicole flinches. _Believed_ . Not _believes_. “She used to tell me stories about sirens calling sailors into the sea and mermaids tricking people. She told me I would meet a selkie, someday.”

Chrissy is quiet. “Do you believe in them?” she finally asks.

Nicole looks at the wooden boat in her hand, tracing the letters with the tip of her finger. “I don’t know,” she admits. “She believed in them. And I believed in her.”

Chrissy smiles gently at her. “Maybe that’s enough.”

 _Maybe_ , Nicole thinks.

-

She meets a girl with long brown hair the summer she turns sixteen. 

Shae Pressman comes with her father for a fishing season, renting one of the houses down by the water. She gets the seat next to Nicole in math class and they share a book because Ms. Clootie doesn’t have an extra right now. Shae smiles at Nicole over polynomials and Nicole forgets to breathe.

“Do you ever wonder what’s up there?” Shae asks, stretched out on the rocky shore. They’ve been watching the boats go in and out of the harbor for a few hours, listening to Shae talk about the last town she was in the past fishing season. She points up at the lighthouse as she talks and Nicole follows the long stretch of her arm to the gallery deck.

Nicole grins.

“Want to find out?”

Her aunt is outside when they get there, dropping their bikes on the loose gravel at the base of the lighthouse. She flattens a hand over her eyes, blocking out the sun.

“Hey, girl. I was just about to send up a signal flare.” Her aunt kicks at a large rock. “I’m trying to get this damn thing back against the foundation.”

Shae is close to her side. “You know the lighthouse keeper?”

Nicole’s shoulder brushes Shae’s when a gust of wind sweeps over them. “Yeah, kind of.”

“I’m going to need to get Robert Svane up here next week to shore it up,” her aunt continues. “Maybe widen it a bit. I don’t like the way things are starting to come loose.” She stops and looks at Shae properly. “Who’s this?”

“Shae. Pressman,” Shae says, sticking her hand out.

Her aunt takes it easily, shaking it. “Sarah Haught. You’re new.”

“Haught,” Shae says slowly. She turns to Nicole, eyes wide. “You’re the lighthouse keeper’s _daughter_?”

“Niece,” Nicole corrects. “I’m her niece.”

Shae rolls her eyes. “You _kind of_ know the lighthouse keeper.”

“Here for the season?” her aunt asks.

Shae nods. “My dad is working on The Fire. We just came from western Canada.”

Her aunt nods. “The Fire is good. Ewan Allenbach and his brothers run a tight ship.”

“The uniforms are funny, though.” Shae wrinkles her nose. “All red is kind of overkill.”

“So is his hair,” Nicole mutters. Shae elbows her lightly. “Can we go up?” she asks her aunt.

Her aunt nods. “Go on. Just watch that loose board on the deck. I’ve still got to nail it down.”

“I can do it,” Nicole says quickly. She spots the small toolbag her aunt keeps and grabs it, tightening it around her waist. It sags a little with the weight but she keeps a hold on it.

Her aunt stares at her for a moment but shrugs a shoulder. “Go ahead. Don’t get crazy with the nails, though. One in the corner should do fine.”

She leads Shae up the winding stairs inside the lighthouse, stopping each time Shae stops to look out of the windows sunken into the side of the concrete. They finally come out of the watch room and onto the gallery deck, the hammer in Nicole’s toolbelt swinging into her leg.

“Wow,” Shae breathes. “You can see everything from here.”

Nicole puffs out her chest. “Cool, right?”

Shae leans her arms against the railing, her hair fluttering around her face as a breeze drifts over them. “More than cool.” She turns, elbows on the rail. “I’ve always wanted to climb to the top of the lighthouse,” she admits.

Nicole kneels down on the decking, wrestling a nail out of the tough leather pocket on her waist. She holds it steady over the loose board, eyes narrowed in concentration. She looks up at Shae quickly as she brings the hammer down and misses the nail.

Shae doesn’t see her. She’s staring up at the cupola as the sun reflects off the copper dome.

Nicole huffs, blowing some hair out of her eyes, and tries again. She finds the nailhead, hammering it through the wood smoothly. When she looks up, Shae is smiling down at her.

“Impressive.”

Nicole shrugs a shoulder, going for careless. “I help out a lot.”

Shae looks wistfully at the widow’s walk just above them. “I wonder what it’s like to be in the lantern room.” 

Nicole grins. “Want to find out?”

-

Nicole pushes her peas around her plate and sighs.

“What’s wrong?” her aunt asks, putting her fork down.

Nicole looks up quickly. “Nothing. I’m fine.”

Her aunt narrows her eyes. “That’s the fourth time you’ve sighed like that. And you’re not even eating your potatoes,” she points out.

Nicole sighs again and drops her own fork. “Champ Hardy-”

“Here we go,” her aunt mutters. “What did that pissant do this time?”

“Nothing,” Nicole says quickly. She shrugs a shoulder. “He said that mermaids don’t exist.”

Her aunt shakes her head and mutters, “The Hardy family intelligence doesn’t exist.” She sighs. “What have I told you about listening to that boy?”

“Not to,” Nicole mutters. She shifts in her seat. “It’s just that he was going on at recess today about how mermaids are stupid and they don’t exist. He-he, he says that they’re pretend and we’re all babies.”

“He’s just like his father was at that age,” her aunt says. She shakes a finger in Nicole’s face. “Listen to me. That little 12-year-old hotshot doesn’t know his foot from his elbow. He wouldn’t know a mermaid if one came up out of the sea and smacked him in the face with her tail.”

Nicole sighs and shifts. “I don’t think a lot of people believe in mermaids,” she admits.

Her aunt hums softly. “Do you?”

“I want to,” Nicole says quietly. “A sea full of mermaids sounds like the best thing ever.”

“And the sirens and the selkies.” 

Nicole starts to smile. “And the pirates. Don’t forget the pirates.” 

“Poseidon will take care of the pirates.” Her aunt smiles back. “You don’t let that Hardy boy get to you. And if he gives you a hard time, you let me know.”

Nicole nods. “Me and Chrissy think he’s kind of a bully, anyway. And bullies are just mean because they got no sense. That’s what Mr. Nedley says.”

Her aunt picks her fork back up and points it at Nicole. “Mr. Nedley is right. And he knows a thing or two about mermaids. Ask him, the next time you see him.”

“I will,” Nicole promises. She picks up her own fork, stabbing at her peas. “Will you tell me about your grandfather tonight? And the selkie he met? I want to tell Chrissy.”

Her aunt smiles widely, knocking the point of Nicole’s shoulder with her knuckles. “Of course I will. She had a family in the sea, you know.” Her aunt nods. “There’s a whole world underneath those waves, girl. One day, you’ll see.”

-

“Hey, stranger,” someone says behind her.

Nicole turns, her hair in her face. She hefts the bag of mulch in her arms up a little higher but it drops when she sees Shae Pressman standing ten feet away from her.

“I heard about Sarah.” Shae gives her a soft smile. “I wanted to stop by and pay my respects.”

It still hurts a little when she thinks about her aunt, but not as bad as when the wound was still fresh. She pushes her hair off her forehead and smiles. “Thanks.” She closes the few steps between them, her arms hesitating in the air. “I’ve been out here sweating all day.”

Shae rolls her eyes. “And I just came in off a boat, so it’s not like you’re going to offend my delicate sensibilities.”

Nicole laughs, hugging Shae tightly. “It’s good to see you.”

Shae squeezes back. “I was out in Baffin Bay when I heard. I had a month left, or I would have been here sooner.”

Nicole holds Shae at arm’s length. Her hair is longer but her smile is the same as it’s always been. “You didn’t have to come at all.”

Shae snorts softly. “Are you kidding? Sarah was my first love.”

“That lighthouse was your first love,” Nicole corrects.

“No, you were.” Shae smiles. She rubs at Nicole’s hand as it drops between them. 

Nicole breathes in slowly. “Are you hungry? Can I get you a drink?”

“You don’t have to.”

“I can take a break.” Nicole sweeps an arm around the base of the lighthouse. She’s putting flowers in; highbush cranberry. They were her aunt’s favorite. “I’ve been at it for a few hours now. Think I’ve earned a break.”

Shae smiles. “Only if you’re sure.”

Nicole ignores her. She dusts off her hand on her pants and runs one through her hair as she opens the door and slips inside. It’s cool here, hidden away from the end-of-May sun. She leads Shae up the winding stairs and into the living quarters she’s called home for the last decade and a half. It looks the same as it did the last time Shae was here; just a few more pictures and little less of her aunt’s things.

“I’ve got iced tea,” Nicole offers. 

“Sarah’s iced tea?” Shae asks.

Nicole stops at the refrigerator. “Is there another way to make it?” She doesn’t wait for an answer, pulling the doors open and getting the container. She takes down a few cups, filling them. She thinks that maybe she has something in the fridge she can put together. A sandwich, at least. 

“I ate at Shorty’s before I got here,” Shae says. “In case that’s what you’re eying the cabinets for.”

Nicole fakes a gasp. “You ate at Shorty’s? When I could have made you my world-famous peanut butter and jelly?”

Shae makes a face. “Please. I’ve had your world-famous peanut butter and jelly sandwich before.”

“Then you know why they’re world-famous.” Nicole grins widely but doesn’t pull the peanut butter down from the cupboard. She sets the glass of iced tea on the table in front of Shae, pulling her own seat around and sinking into it. “You still with the guys from Nevada?”

Shae takes a long drink. “Yeah. They’re a good crew. We work well together.”

“That’s great.” Nicole runs a hand through her hair again. “What’re you catching these days? Polar cod? Someone’s eye?”

Shae laughs brightly and it fills the space. Nicole soaks it in. It’s been a while since there’s been laughter in this place. “Catching someone’s eye. What’re you? Five years away from a nursing home?”

Nicole grins. “Depends. Will you be my doctor?”

Shae ignores her. “Polar cod and some migrating haddock, mostly.” She pauses. “But there is a girl on the mainland who isn’t hard on the eyes.”

“Oooo.” Nicole puts down her glass and leans forward, elbows on her knees. “Tell me about her.”

“Get out of here.” Shae kicks lightly at Nicole’s knee. “It’s nothing serious. I’m on the boat most of the year, so it’s not like I’m around much.” She pauses again. “We’re actually thinking of heading towards the Barents next season.”

Nicole looks at the map on the wall near the door. She whistles. “That’s a haul. For a season?”

“Permanently, actually.” Shae runs a finger down the sweating glass of iced tea. “The cod fishing is good out there. Steady. In the Baffin, we can only run for a few months. And fishing has been good. Okay,” Shae corrects. “But the population is drying up and we’re fighting for space. Barents is bigger. We can haul in more.”

Nicole is quiet for a minute. “So you’re coming to say goodbye.”

Shae smiles softly. “More like, ‘see you later’.”

Nicole looks back at the map again, racking her brain. “There’s a lighthouse on the coast of Murmansk called Ostrov Shurinov. They put solar panels on it.” Nicole makes a face. “Sounds like a terrible idea, really.”

“Solar panels,” Shae repeats. “All that means is they don’t have a keeper.” She kicks at Nicole’s knee again. “Feel like moving?”

She shouldn’t be surprised Shae is headed out to sea. She’s been fascinated with it for years; if Nicole loved the lighthouse, Shae loved to be in the water searching for it. Fishing has been harder as the years go on. It was only a matter of time before she stopped coming by every few months to spend the night. 

“I can’t,” Nicole says softly. 

Shae smiles, her head tipped to one side. “I know. Figured I’d ask, though.”

Nicole reaches out, taking Shae’s hand in hers. “If I wasn’t keeping this place running, I’d-“

“I know,” Shae says again. “But even if you said yes, I wouldn’t let you.” She squeezes Nicole’s hand. “You belong here. You’re the lighthouse keeper now.”

Nicole takes a deep breath. She’s the lighthouse keeper now.

Shae finishes the rest of her iced tea, putting the glass back down on the table with a soft thud. “I can’t stay long. The guys want to get a head start on the storm coming in.” She stands up, stretching her arms over her head.

“You don’t want to wait until it passes?”

Shae shakes her head. “We’re already almost halfway into the season. We don’t want to lose any more ground than we already have.” She smiles. “Those Russia boys won’t know what hit ‘em.”

Nicole stands, leaning back against her chair. “So, this is goodbye.”

“This is ‘see you later’,” Shae corrects. She crooks a finger in Nicole’s direction, pulling her closer when Nicole steps in. Shae kisses her, catching the corner of her mouth, and lingers for a moment. “Take care of yourself, Nicole. And this lighthouse, too. I’m going to need it to find my way back here.”

-

She wakes up and stares at the Argo and Piscis constellations above her head. She feels a little sweaty under the big blue comforter her aunt bought her. It’s late; the stars are still glowing, bright enough that Nicole can see the tips of her fingers in the dark. The big window is open and she can hear the waves hitting the rocks at the base of the lighthouse. Something - a bird, maybe - calls over the water. The moon streams into her room and across the carpet.

This is her home now.

She gets out of bed slowly, shivering when her feet touch the wood floor. She steps quickly across the room until she’s on the small carpet her aunt got for her - blues and greens and a big turtle in the middle of it. A leatherback turtle, her aunt had told her as she rolled it out. 

“Do you know the difference between turtles and tortoises?” her aunt had asked.

Nicole didn’t. She saw a turtle, once, at the aquarium her school visited. But she didn’t get a chance to put her hand in the water like everyone else did. They moved on to the octopus tank instead. 

“Turtles live in the water,” her aunt explained. “And tortoises live on land. Have you ever seen a turtle?”

Nicole had nodded, eyes wide as she took in this new place. She’s never been this close to this much water before. Jennie Strain had a pool, back when Nicole lived with her dad. But this is the _sea_. And it goes on for miles and miles and miles. Nicole doesn’t know what that means, but she knows it has to be a lot. And there it is, right outside of her window.

There’re a hundred windows here, she’s sure of it. They go all the way from the ground to the top of the lighthouse. She lives in a lighthouse now. It has a staircase that goes around in circles and a big gold top. Her aunt let her go up to there and she stood on the wooden walkway. A gallery deck, her aunt said. She stood on the gallery deck and tried not to look down too many times so she wouldn’t get sick.

“And this,” her aunt said, pointing up from the gallery deck towards a small room with a big light inside of it. “This is the lantern room. This is how we get the ships home.”

Nicole stands at the window, leaning against the small sill. The sea almost looks black when it’s this dark out, she thinks. She watches the light spin around on the water. If she squints, she can make out small red lights in the distance. She’s not sure if they’re coming towards her or if they’re going away.

-

Nicole climbs down out of the lantern room and lands on the gallery deck, feet thudding against the worn wood. She toes at a loose board, putting her weight on it slowly. It’ll hold for now. But she’ll have to come up tomorrow or the next day and reinforce it. She thinks of being sixteen and trying to show off for Shae, the sun warm against her neck and her palms a little sweaty.

There’s a postcard on the fridge in her kitchen. _Greetings from Murmansk_ , it says. Shae signed it with a big red heart just below her name.

She looks down quickly and then back out along the horizon. She pauses and looks down again where the rocks and the sea meet. Her hands grip the railing of the deck and her heart starts to pound in her chest. There, just at the front outcropping of rocks, is a woman battling against the waves. Nicole watches her struggle against the current as it washes in and out and in again. 

_We protect the sea and the people_ , her aunt used to tell her.

Nicole dips into the watch room and grabs a hold of the wire-railed spiral staircase. She skips a few steps on her way down, feet sliding on the smooth treads. _We protect the people_ , a voice in her head says. She hits the cold stone floor at the bottom of the stairs and breaks out into the breezy summer air. It’s not too far from the rocks - down the gravel path and over a large rock Nicole named ‘Rolling Stone’ when she was younger. The water laps at the bottom of her shoes as she gets closer to where the rocks get more jagged.The woman is right there in front of her, twenty yards away. She looks stuck, one foot wedged in between a close circle of rocks. She’s tugging at her wet pant leg, her forehead wrinkled in concentration. Her hair drops from off her shoulder, falling across her face. Nicole pauses for just a second.

“Hold on,” she calls.

The woman looks up, eyes wide. “No, I’ve got it.”

Nicole ignores her. “Just hold on a second.” She tests her footing on a loose rock.

“Really,” the woman says. “I’ve got it. I’m just-” She tugs hard at her pant leg again. “I’m _stuck_.”

Nicole missteps and her foot slides off into the cold water. “Shit,” she hisses. Her shoe will be soaked through for hours. She holds her arms out, balancing carefully as she goes from rock to rock, her steps light and quick. _We protect the sea and the people_ , her aunt’s voice says. She stretches her leg a little too far; the muscle burns but she makes it to the rock she wanted, arms swinging wildly.

The woman huffs, the strands of hair around her face fluttering away. “I can do it.”

“I’m here,” Nicole breathes out. She pauses, her chest rising and falling as she pants for air. “Don’t worry, I’m here.”

The woman sighs.

Nicole slings her arm low around the woman’s waist, lifting her up until her feet skim across the top of the rocks and she finds her footing. She doesn’t let go. She holds on as they move rock to rock until their points start to flatten out and she feels more sure. The woman curls her other hand into the front of Nicole’s shirt when they slide once, but Nicole steadies them easily.

The sand starts the squish under her feet as they come off the rocks. Nicole lets out a shuddering breath.

“That was dramatic,” someone drawls.

Nicole spins, pushing the woman back behind her. Another woman is leaning against one of the bigger rocks the line the inlet, picking at her fingernails. “What’re you-”

The woman looks up. “If we needed to be rescued, don’t you think we would have asked?”

Nicole blinks. “How did you-”

“I’ve been here the whole time.” The woman sounds bored. “That little heroic stunt was unnecessary. Wasn’t it, Waverly?”

The woman in her arms shifts, peeling Nicole’s fingers away from her hip gently. “I was going to get unstuck.”

Nicole blinks again.

Waverly turns to her with a soft smile. “Thanks, though. For trying to save me. It was very honorable.”

“Honorable,” Nicole breathes. She blinks a third time. “Wait, what? What are you guys doing down here?” She looks up at the lighthouse. It’s always something to stand down here and see it. It stands above the rest of the rocks, guiding the ships in. _Her lighthouse_. “It’s not safe here.”

Waverly steps lightly off the rock they’re sharing, closer to the other woman. “Willa, I’m fine.”

“Of course you are,” Willa says without taking her eyes off Nicole. “Only a loser would be afraid of drowning in two inches of water.”

“Actually,” Waverly starts. “A human being can drown in one inch of water. Statistically-”

“Stop talking,” Willa says sharply. She finally looks away from Nicole and down at her fingernails. “Waverly, we need to go. Daddy doesn’t like it when we’re late.”

Waverly takes another step away from Nicole. “I know,” she says under her breath. She makes her way across the sand towards the rocky path Nicole took to get down to the water. Willa trails ahead of her, already halfway up. Waverly follows after her, looking back over her shoulder once, giving Nicole a soft smile.

Nicole watches them go and lets herself sink softly into the sand beneath her feet.


	2. gleaming streams of light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She watches the water ripple in between the come and the go and goes back to bed. She dreams about that woman again and wakes up with a warm feeling in her chest.

“Go ahead, Nicole,” her teacher, Ms. Lucado, prompts gently.

Nicole takes a deep breath, her fingers wrinkling the piece of paper in her hands. Chrissy nods reassuringly from the back of the room, smiling.

_ A Day in the Life of a Selkie _ , the top of her paper reads. The poster board behind her has a big picture of a selkie that she drew. Her aunt showed her a picture on the computer, but she copied it from a “Marine and Water Life” book the library had. It’s three different kinds of blues. She had to sort through all the crayons in the box in art class just to find them. 

“Selkie,” she starts to read. She stops and clears her throat. “Selkies live in the water.”

“Duh,” Champ mutters. The sound of it carries to the front of the classroom.

Nicole pulls her shoulders back a little. “Selkies live in the water, in the seas. They’re a part of mythograph-” She winces. “Mytho _ logy _ . Mythology is myths that are passed down from generation to generation. It’s like, if your grandma told your mom and your mom told you.”

“‘Generation’ is on our spelling list this week,” Ms. Lucado reminds them. She smiles encouragingly at Nicole. “Continue.”

“Right. Generations.” Nicole takes a deep breath. She looks down at the paper in her hands. “Scotland. The myth is from Scotland. That’s not in Quebec, though. It’s all the way on the other wide of the world.” She drew the Scottish flag on her poster board, right next to the selkie. “The myth about selkies is that they’re made of magic. In the water, they’re seals. And on land, they’re humans.”

“Like mermaids?” Eliza Shapiro asks, leaning forward. Her project is next and she drew The Little Mermaid on her poster.

“ _ Not  _ like mermaids.” Nicole starts to smile. She knows something no one else knows. “Mermaids are still half-human in the water. Selkies are whole seals. Like the kind in  _ Andre _ .”

Kyle York perks up a little. “Can they swim in the bathtub like Andre can?”

Nicole shrugs. “I don’t know. Maybe. But, like, a bathtub in the sea. Because once they come up on land, they shed their skin and become human.”

Someone, maybe Jeremy Chetri, gasps.

“Yeah,” Nicole breathes. “They shed their skin and they leave it on the shore. My aunt says they have to hide it, though. Because if someone finds it, they can steal it. And if you steal a selkies pelt - their skin, it’s called a pelt - then they’re stuck on land forever. And they have to do anything you say.” She feels excited now, pointing back at the picture she drew. “Until you give their pelt back, they’re yours forever.”

Chrissy smiles and nods at her again.

Nicole takes a deep breath. “My great-grandfather knew a selkie.” She lets it sink in. Listens to the soft gasps of disbelief that echo through the room. “She had long brown hair and a really nice smile. He told her that he loved her and he would wait for her. But selkies only come onto land once every seven years. They stay for a little while and then they go back into the water.”

“Why do they go back?” Samantha Baker asks.

Nicole shrugs. “That’s just what the myth says. My aunt says it’s true. The selkie never came back for my great-grandfather so he married someone else and they had my grandfather who had my dad who had me.”

“Do you think you’ll ever see a selkie?” 

Nicole sighs wistfully. “I hope so.” She startles a little bit and stands back up straight. “I mean, if we’re lucky.” She looks back down at the paper in her hands and shrugs at Ms. Lucado. “That’s all I have.”

Ms. Lucado smiles at her. “That was lovely, thank you, Nicole.” She looks at the rest of the class and they all clap politely except for Chrissy, who tries to whistle the way Mr. Nedley taught them to.

Nicole picks her way back to her seat, tucking herself into the seat quickly. The tips of her ears are burning, but she’s  _ done _ . She did her presentation and her aunt is going to let her watch Mr. Holliday from the hardware store put in the new lantern in the lighthouse. It’s still good for a few miles, the men at the docks had said. But her aunt wanted to make sure it didn’t go out on them. 

_ They need us and we need them _ , her aunt would say.

“Lame,” Champ mumbles under his breath. 

Nicole can hear him behind her but she stares at the front of the room, resolving not to look back at him.

“Selkies?” Champ continues. “Those are for babies.  _ Pirates _ are the real thing.”

Jeremy, one seat over, leans in. “Forget him. Selkies are totally real.” His eyes dart towards the front of the room where Kyle is setting up a poster board with a big picture of Davy Jones on it. “Have you ever heard of fosse grim?”

Nicole frowns. “No.”

Jeremy’s eyes light up. “Get ready for me to blow your mind.”

-

Nicole is still thinking about the woman from the water.

She drove into town the other day and loaded up her aunt’s old truck with her groceries and some quick cement and drove through the quiet streets, looking them over. She went past the hardware store and the library. Past the post office and Shorty’s, the one bar they have. Past Constant Cravings and their other restaurant, The Forge. Past Nedley’s and the police station. She passed Chrissy’s car at the bank and Eliza’s motorcycle at the Black Badge, the office at the top of the docks.

This is her home. She’s the one that watches over them.

But she can’t get the woman from the water out of her mind.  _ Waverly _ . She dreams about her that night, about coming down the rocky path and the woman being too far away to get to. Nicole was going further and further out and the woman was moving farther and farther away. The other woman, Willa, was standing on the sandy shore laughing, pointing out into the sea as a wave came and crashed down over Waverly. 

She wakes up in a cold sweat, her hand reaching out for Waverly. She grabs nothing but air.

“You’re going crazy,” she mumbles to herself. She gets up, pushing back the blue comforter she’s had for years. Her feet hit the cold floor and she shivers a little, even as the warm June breeze comes in through the window. The lantern light gleams off the water. In and out and in and out. It calms her racing heart.

They must have been tourists, the two women. Sometimes a boat comes into the dock from a nearby town. St. Johns, probably. A glimpse into the life of a fisherman who fishes to live, not for fun. They’ve been doing more runs from just outside the Ghost River Triangle. That must be it.

She’ll probably never see either of them again. 

The wind weaves through her hair and pushes it off her face. She looks out over the water and imagines the things living just below the surface. Sirens, mermaids, selkies. Fosse grim. Melusine. Hundreds of stories and thousands of years they’ve been believed. And she watches over them all. Her lantern lights their way. Leads them home. Draws them in. Without her lighthouse, they would drift in the dark waters until they found the shore or the rocks.

_ It’s what we’ve been made to do _ , her aunt would say.

She looks down as the light shines over the small inlet below, reflecting off the rocks there, catching the sea glass that litters the sandy shoreline. She watches the waves come in, slow and steady. Ebb and flow. She imagines what might be in those waves.

She watches the water ripple in between the come and the go and goes back to bed.

She dreams about that woman again and wakes up with a warm feeling in her chest.

-

Chrissy sighs and blows a bubble with her gum, snapping it when it gets too big. “This is boring.”

Nicole pushes a limp strand of hair off her forehead. “This was your idea.”

“This was my dad’s idea,” Chrissy corrects. “ _ Go and watch the boats come in _ , he said.  _ It’ll be good for you to see how we breathe life into this place _ .” She makes a face. “He just wants to know if any of the boats need to be looked over.”

“They’re coming in after a three month run. Of course, they need to be looked over.” Nicole looks up at the dock at the Black Badge office. She can see the dockmaster, Moody, standing next to Mr. Nedley. They both have their arms crossed over their chests, watching as the boats cut their engines and drift in along the docks. Fishermen who haven’t felt the solid ground beneath their feet for over three months sway as they jump off and onto the dock, pulling the boats in to tie them off.

Nicole looks the other way, at the lighthouse a little further up the shoreline. The lantern turns steadily. She knows it’s how the boats came home, following the light back to their little boating town. Her aunt did that.  _ She _ did that.

Chrissy takes a long drink from the sweating soda bottle in her hand and passes it over. “Hear anything from Shae?”

Something ripples through Nicole’s chest. “No,” she says. “She wasn’t sure when she was going to be able to write.”

“Soon, I bet,” Chrissy says it confidently, like she knows. Like Nicole didn’t chew a hole in her lip checking the mail every day. Shae did say she would write, whenever she got where her dad was going. It was a waiting game now.

She thinks about saying goodbye to Shae, the two of them wrapped around each other in the lantern room, letting the soft  _ swoosh _ of the light drown out the way Nicole’s heart felt like it was going to beat out of her chest. Shae had whispered that she loved Nicole. Nicole had whispered it back. 

Chrissy shoulders her gently. “You’re doing that thing with your face again.”

Nicole rolls her eyes.

“Seriously,” Chrissy continues. “If you’re constipated, my dad has-”

Nicole reaches over and slams her hand down against Chrissy’s mouth. She holds tight as Chrissy tries to wriggle out of her grasp, laughing when Chrissy glares at her. She opens her mouth to say something when she feels something warm and wet against her hand. She gasps instead.

“That was so gross!” she shouts. She wipes her hand on Chrissy’s jeans. “Who knows where that mouth has been.” She pauses. “Well, I actually know  _ exactly _ where-”

Chrissy throws her hand over Nicole’s mouth this time, glancing back up the dock at Mr. Nedley. “Don’t say a word.”

Nicole rolls her eyes.

“Seriously,” Chrissy whispers. “He’s got the hearing of a bloodhound.” She lifts her hand off Nicole’s mouth slowly, checking to see if Nicole looks like she’s going to say something again.

“A bat,” Nicole corrects. “Hearing like a bat. A nose like a bloodhound.”

Chrissy waves her off. “Whatever. He can hear really well. Happy?” She leans back against the post they’re sitting in front of. “If he finds out about… you know, he’ll freak out. He couldn’t even handle it when I got my period.”

Nicole shrugs. “You should just tell him. He’s going to freak out either way.”

Chrissy narrows her eyes. “Are you going to tell your aunt what you and Shae did in that lantern room.”

Nicole swallows hard.

“I didn’t think so.” Chrissy looks back down the dock, picking at a loose lace on her sneakers. “When it’s serious, I’ll tell him.”

Nicole follows Chrissy’s eyes down to the water where another boat is docking. She watches as a boy jumps off onto the dock, grabbing the rope, trying to guide the boat in along the dock. He grins proudly when he does it, taking the pat on the back someone gives him. 

Chrissy sighs wistfully.

Perry Crofte turns and holds a flat hand up above his eyes, scanning the parking lot that narrows down into the steps of the dock. He sees them and waves, smiling widely.

Chrissy flushes and waves back weakly. She glances back over her shoulder but Mr. Nedley is talking to Moody, the two of them turned away. She waves a little more, laughing when Perry takes two steps towards them and stops, Bryce Cooper in his way.

Nicole rolls her eyes and goes back to watching the boats dock while Chrissy pretends like she’s not watching Perry’s every move.

  
  


-

She’s finishing up lining the base of the lighthouse with bunchberry, in between the highbush cranberry, and the sun is sinking quickly in the sky. It’s painted with streaks of orange and red and Nicole stops for just a minute to wipe some errant soil off her arm and stare at it. She didn’t see this in the city when she lived with her dad. Just tall building after tall building. Here the sea stretches for miles and miles. The lantern in that tower stretches even further. 

Dusk is settling quietly around them. Nicole needs to hurry up before she can’t separate the sea from the shore.

She’s digging the last hole, careful of the base of the lighthouse, when she hears the splashing. She pauses for a second. Sometimes the ravens go down and drop into the water for just a second. But the splashing goes on longer than that and voices start to drift towards her. She sighs. Some of the high school kids have been launching their dinghies off the docks and drifting around the shoreline recklessly. She drops her shovel, kicking it off the gravel, and takes off her work gloves, brushing her hands on her jeans.

“Stupid kids,” she grumbles. She ignores the voice in her head that reminds her she was this young once and she and Chrissy stole one of Mr. Nedley’s dinghies to take it for a joyride.

She takes a few steps down the rocky path when her feet stop, her body still moving forward. She slides a little over the loose rocks. 

The woman - Waverly - is there on the sandy shore, pulling on a shoe. The other woman, Willa, adjusts her shirt, flipping her wet hair over her shoulder. 

“Come  _ on _ ,” Willa says impatiently. “I don’t have all night.”

Waverly’s fingers move a little faster over the laces. “I’m going as fast as I can.”

“So, glacial.” Will rolls her eyes. “I told you, Daddy doesn’t like when we’re-”

“Late,” Waverly finishes. “I know that.”

Willa ignores her. “It’s a good thing I came with you and not Wynonna. Lord knows when the two of you would have made it into town.”

Waverly shrinks a little. “Maybe we can just go home?”

Willa’s eyes narrow and she goes impossibly still. “Are you suggesting we disobey Daddy?”

“Of course not,” Waverly says quickly.

Nicole watches them silently. She watches the way Waverly seems to fold in on herself. Something in her hands aches and she wants to close the distance between them, putting herself between Waverly and Willa. She doesn’t know them, not really. But something about the way Willa looks at Waverly makes Nicole wish she did.

“You shouldn’t go swimming here,” Nicole says loudly.

Waverly jumps, feet sliding over the wet rocks. Will barely looks back as Waverly’s foot plunges into an empty space between two rocks. Nicole lunches forward past Willa as Waverly sways side to side, arms stretched out to keep her balanced. She grabs for Waverly’s wrist, pulling her to one side so she can find her footing.

Waverly’s hand lands on Nicole’s hip, her forehead bumping against Nicole’s shoulder. “Sorry,” she breathes out.

Nicole swallows, her mouth dry. “It’s okay,” she manages. “Caught you.”

Waverly’s eyes flash and she steps back, out of Nicole’s hold. Nicole blinks, eyes unfocused as she looks back at Willa. “What are you guys even doing down here.”

“Not that it’s any of your business,” Willa says. “But we’re going to Shorty’s.”

Nicole frowns. “Why?” As soon as she asks, she knows it’s a stupid question. Why does anyone go to Shorty’s? To drink, play pool, talk about fishing, and shut the place down. She goes every so often with Chrissy and it’s the same thing with the same people, each and every time. 

“To get a drink,” Willa says slowly. 

“Who’re you going to go see?” Nicole asks before she can stop herself. What does she care?  _ Why _ does she care? She doesn’t even know these women. But this is her town and she’s going to protect it. This is her sea and she’s going to keep it safe. 

“Waverly has a date with Champ Hardy,” Willa says, bored. 

Champ Hardy. The name sours in Nicole’s mouth. Champ Hardy hasn’t gotten any better than he was at 10. If anything, he’s gotten worse. He went west to ride in some rodeo.  _ I’m better than  _ fishing, he would tell everyone. Then he busted his knee and came limping back home, finding a stool at Shorty’s and picking up right where he left off. 

_ Being an asshole _ , Nicole thinks.

She wants to look back over her shoulder at Waverly. There’s no way a girl like Waverly could be dating a guy like Champ. Sure, she doesn’t really  _ know _ Waverly. But just looking at her, there's no way Waverly would even be interested in anything Champ Hardy has to say. 

Willa taps her foot, obviously impatient. “Are you done interrogating us,  _ Officer _ ?”

Nicole holds up a hand. “I’m just saying, it’s not safe to go swimming from this point. There’s a better spot near the docks.” She looks back and studies the line of Waverly’s jaw. “Less rocks,” she says, distracted.

Waverly catches her eyes for a moment and then looks away.

Willa sighs loudly. “The next time I want your advice, I’ll be sure to ask for it.” She waves her hands at Nicole, saying  _ shoo _ . “Now, go. We have somewhere to be.” She sidesteps Nicole, climbing up the path. She stops, looking back over her shoulder. “Waverly,” she says sharply.

Waverly slips around Nicole. Her hand brushes over Nicole’s arm and it sparks where her fingers meet Nicole’s skin. She follows Willa with sure feet, hands opening and closing around empty air. She doesn’t look back this time.

Nicole stands still, watching Waverly walk away from her again.

-

“Make it two,” Chrissy says behind her, looking past her at Rosita Bustillos. Rosita nods, pulling another beer out of the cooler. She cracks both open, putting them on the bar. “Put it on my tab.” Chrissy grabs the two bottle, hip-checking Nicole out of her way when Nicole goes to put money down. “It’s on me. Come on.”

Nicole shakes her head and follows Chrissy, already drinking from her bottle, through the people milling around at the pool table. She watches some of them put bets down on the game, some of them waiting for their turn. Their usual spot is in the back, a booth on the other side of the pool tables. It was the same booth that belonged to Mr. Nedley when he bothered to come in here.  _ Now, he’d rather go drinking with his buddies down in Bishop’s Falls _ , Chrissy says. He left the booth to them, now. And usually, Nicole skips nights like these, pressed into a sticky bar booth with Chrissy and Perry and Rosita, when she comes over in between serving rounds at the bar. But she had another dream about Waverly, the woman she doesn’t know, and she couldn’t shake the idea that she might come tonight.

To see Champ Hardy.

“Ladies,” Perry says as he slides into the booth. He kisses Chrissy on the cheek and takes her beer and chugs it down, finishing the bottle. “Who’s buying?”

Chrissy plucks the empty bottle from his hand. “Uh, you, you jerk.”

Perry only grins. “Coming right up.” He disappears into the crowd again. Nicole can see the top of his head bouncing through the people, sees him stop at the bar and call Rosita over. 

Nicole looks up as a loud roar of laughter comes from the pool table. Champ is sitting on the edge of one, his cue between his fingers as he smiles at Samantha Baker.

“Gross,” Chrissy says in her ear.

Nicole takes a long sip from her bottle. “She’s always been into him.”

Chrissy scoffs. “I’m just surprised they don’t have a horde of kids yet.”

“Can’t have kids when you’re a kid yourself,” Nicole mutters. “Poor Samantha would be raising Champ, too.”

Samantha laughs loudly and leans forward, the hem of her shirt dipping lower.

Nicole winces. “I take that back. It would be two kids raising babies.”

Chrissy shrugs. “They’re not bad.” She points, her beer bottle leading. “I mean, for fake ones.”

“Have you seen a lot of real ones?” Nicole asks, laughing around her beer. She takes a long sip of it, finishing the bottle.

Chrissy winks at her. “We had gym class together, didn’t we? And unless you’re hiding some big secret from me…” She pinches Nicole’s cheek. “Don’t worry, baby. You know I’ve only got eyes for you.”

“Eyes for who?” Perry asks, coming back to the table. He puts down three new beers. Chrissy picks one up, taking a long pull from it. “Samantha Baker’s boobs?” He looks over at the pool tables. “They look kind of real under the right light, don’t they?”

“Her tits?” Rosita asks, picking up the empties on the table. She leans an elbow down on it, her shoulder warm against Nicole’s arm. “If I didn’t know her in high school, I’d think they’re the read deal.” She shrugs. “Not bad, though. Her surgeon deserved every penny they got.”

Nicole laughs again. She protests these nights out, usually. Someone has to man the lighthouse, she always says. Sometimes she lets Doc do it, like tonight, but most times she stays home and lets Chrissy crawl over the next morning, hungover and looking for breakfast. 

“Let’s talk about something else,” she suggests.

Rosita shrugs. “I’m just saying, if you’re ever in the market for some new ones, get that guy’s number.” She picks up Nicole’s beer and drinks some, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand when she puts it down. “Let’s talk about Bryce Cooper instead.”

Everyone groans.

“He slept over last night,” Rosita continues, as if she didn’t hear them. “And if we’re talking about boobs, then you should know that he-”

Nicole pushes her bottle back up to Rosita’s mouth. “Here, drink this.”

The door opens, the cool June air coming off the sea drifting into the hot bar. Nicole looks up as it swings closed, still laughing at Rosita trying to talk around the neck of the bottle.

Waverly.

She looks around the room, Willa coming up behind her. She touches Waverly’s shoulder, enough that Waverly winces a little bit, and points to the bar. She leaves Waverly standing there, growing smaller by the second as the room swells around her.

Nicole puts her bottle down, eyes on Waverly. “Here, it’s yours,” she says to Perry without looking at him. She doesn’t wait for an answer, sliding out of the booth, shoes sticking to the sticky floor for a minute. She crosses the room, elbowing Pete York out of her way. She ducks Kyle swinging his pool cue above his head as she sets up for a shot and moves smoothly around Josh Miller as he pulls his arm back to throw a dart. 

“Hi,” she breathes, coming to a stop in front of Waverly.

Waverly looks up, eyes wide. “You.”

“ _ You _ ,” Nicole says. She can’t explain her pull to this woman. She feels like she’s being reeled in on a windlass. It’s  _ something _ , but she doesn’t know what it is. So she just lets it pull her across the bar and to a stop in front of this woman who doesn’t even know her name. “Waverly.”

Waverly frowns. “How do you know…” She seems to shrug it off. “You rescued me. Even though I didn’t need it.”

Nicole scoffs. “From where I was standing, you did.”

“You didn’t give me a chance,” Waverly argues. “I was going to unstick my foot, you know. I just needed another minute.”

“One big wave and you were going under.” Nicole slides her hands into her back pockets, elbows pressing into her sides. “But sure. Next time, I’ll let you figure it out on your own.”

Waverly straightens up. “I don’t need to be rescued.”

“Okay,” Nicole says easily. “Next time,” she repeats. “I’ll let you do it.” She sticks out her hand. “Deal?”

Waverly stares at it for a minute before slowly lifting her hand. It’s warm in Nicole’s. “Deal.”

Nicole swallows back a sudden flurry of nervousness that builds steadily in her stomach. “Let me make it up to you,” she offers. “I’ll buy you a drink.”

“She already has one,” someone says from behind her. Champ brushes past her shoulder, knocking her hand from Waverly’s. He slides his arm around Waverly’s waist, pulling her close. Nicole watches the way Waverly flinches. “So get lost, would you?”

Nicole looks at Waverly, studying her face. “You want to be here with him?”

Champ steps forward, his hand tightening on Waverly’s waist. “You’ve always had a hearing problem, haven’t you? I said get lost.”

Nicole ignores him. She keeps looking at Waverly, at the thin line of her mouth and the way her eyes are on the floor and her foot tapping against the worn floor. She takes a step forward, angling herself towards Waverly. “If you don’t want to be here with him, you can come sit with us.” She hooks a thumb over her shoulder, back towards the table where she’s sure Chrissy, Rosita, and Perry are sitting, staring at them. 

“You again.” Willa sighs, coming up behind Waverly. “Don’t you have something better to do than bother us  _ constantly _ ?”

Champ sneers. “So you’ve already met the town weirdo.” He laughs, throwing his head back. “You know she believes in mermaids and sirens, right?”

_ And selkies _ , Nicole thinks.

Waverly looks over her shoulder at Willa, eyes wide. 

Willa doesn’t look back, staring at Nicole instead. “Well, that’s just ridiculous.” She turns at Champ. “I think we might be better off going somewhere else. Didn’t you say you don’t live far from here?”

Nicole takes another step forward. “You don’t have to go,” she says to Waverly.

Willa’s hand tightens around Waverly’s shoulder. “She does. So get lost.” She pulls Waverly around, Champ’s arm still slung low around her waist and the three of them slip into the throng of bodies pushing their way to the bar.

_ Three times _ , she thinks.  _ I’ve watched her walk away three times. _

She won’t let it happen again.


	3. thy fair light on the sky’s carnations line

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’m the lighthouse keeper.” Nicole pushes her hair out of her face, smiling.
> 
> Waverly smiles back. “That’s a big job,” she says. She looks back over the water. “You’re in charge of so many things. Of so much life.”
> 
> _The mermaids, the sirens, the selkie._

Shae pushes her sunglasses up into her hair, fingers a little clumsy. “I’m going to get a sunburn.”

I told you,” Nicole sings. “You should have put on sunscreen.”

The boat rocks lazily underneath them, hitting the walkway they docked themselves to gently. They took Perry’s dad’s dinghy out for the afternoon and docked it on the other side of the harbor, tucked away into a spot where no one could see them. Or the cooler of beers Perry got from Bustillos liquor store.

“I don’t usually burn,” Shae complains. “I tan.”

“It’s the alcohol,” Perry offers. “Dehyrdates the skin, or something. It’s why the guys only drink at night, you know? And lots of water during the day.”

Chrissy runs a hand through his hair affectionately. “And you _still_ end up with a sunburn.”

Nicole rolls her warm beer bottle between her hands. “My aunt is going to kill me.”

Shae rolls her eyes. “Please. Sarah thinks the sun shines out of your ass.”

“When really,” Chrissy continues. “It’s just that big ol’ lantern blinding her.”

Nicole reaches forward and swats at Chrissy’s knee, missing and catching Perry in the forehead. She winces and mouths _sorry_ at him.

“Sarah will be _happy_ you’re out here, breaking rules. She’s always telling me you need to get out more.” Shae nods as Nicole opens her mouth to protest. “It’s why she’s always kicking you out of that lighthouse. Right?” Shae asks Chrissy.

Chrissy nods. “Sorry, but she is.”

Nicole scowls. “I get out.” She pauses when everyone makes a face at her. “What? I do.”

Perry takes a long sip from his bottle, eyes going back and forth between them.

“Yeah, you get out onto the gallery deck.” Chrissy waves her off. “Seriously. You’re _always_ up there.”

“It’s a lighthouse. Of course, I’m always _up_ there.”

Chrissy sighs. “You know what I mean, Nicole.”

Nicole picks the label off her bottle, letting it fall to the bottom of the dinghy. “My aunt…” She thinks about the test results she found in the mail pile by the door, the ones with Haught on the top that were folded up and tucked between some junk mail with Nicole’s name on the top. Her aunt hasn’t said anything yet and Nicole is too scared to push it. She read the word _positive_ and put it right back where she found it, leaving it for her aunt.

“She needs me,” she finally says. The words taste bitter in her mouth.

Chrissy looks at her for a moment, eyes soft. “Okay,” she finally says in a quiet voice.

Shae’s hand flexes on Nicole’s leg. “Okay,” she echoes. She leans into Nicole’s shoulder, her forehead hot against Nicole’s skin. Her lips press there, just quickly enough that Nicole almost misses it.

The dinghy rocks gently and Perry gets her another beer, dropping her empty into the cooler by the bow. _This is nice_ , Nicole admits. She has been kind of obsessed with the lighthouse since she read that letter, doing all the little things her aunt shouldn’t have to be worried about. Filling in the foundation and tending to the landscape. She met with Doc down at the hardware store the other day to talk about new lumber for the gallery deck. Her aunt doesn’t know about it; it’s going to be a surprise.

“Want to play Truth or Dare?” Perry asks, his voice cutting through the soft sound of the water lapping at the sides of the dinghy. 

Everyone groans.

“No one is going to dare you to take your shirt off and jump into the water.” Nicole rolls her eyes. “If you want to, just do it.”

Perry pouts. “But it’s better when you dare me.” He looks up at Chrissy. “What do you think, babe?”

Chrissy laughs and pushes gently at his head. “Just jump in if you want to.”

Perry sighs and throws a hand over his face dramatically. “No one here appreciates me.”

Nicole looks across the water to the lighthouse, counting the number of windows pressed into the concrete. That’s the place she calls home. A hundred winding steps and a big light that spins around and around, leading the sailors and the fisherman back home. _Leading the mermaids to shore_ , she thinks. Something flashes against the blue waves rolling in. 

“Did you see that?” Nicole asks, eyes wide with wonder. She turns back to them, arm outstretched across the water. “Did you see it?”

Chrissy sits up a little and Perry’s head falls off her lap. “See what?”

“A tail. I saw a tail.” She can feel her words slipping just a little bit but she’s _sure_. She saw it. Just past the outcropping of rocks near the base of the lighthouse. 

Chrissy giggles. “Sure you did.”

Nicole puts down her bottle, the dinghy rocking as she lifts up a little. “I swear to God, I saw a tail.” She’s sure of it. Just there. Just now. It came up out of the water and it splashed down enough that she could see the water ripple back out of the steady back and forth pattern of the tide. “It was right there.”

Shae holds a hand up over her eyes. “Are you sure?”

“I _swear_ ,” she breathes.

Her aunt still talks about mermaids and sirens and selkies. She tells Nicole stories over breakfast and stories before they each say goodnight. Nicole can recite the story of the selkie her great-grandfather loved by heart; she’s heard it a million and one times. She doesn’t believe in them too much anymore and she doesn’t talk about them to anyone but Shae and Chrissy and Perry. She sees what it does to Jeremy Chetrhi, how Champ pushes him around when he talks about ashrays and fosse grim and water nymphs. She’s the one who pulled him out of a locker two years ago. 

So she stops doing reports on water creatures and she stops bringing water mythology books to read behind the cover of her math book. Sometimes at night, with the phone pressed against her ear and Shae on the other end of the line, she’ll tell her the stories her aunt has told her. About Poseidon and Atlantis and the Titans. But she keeps them mostly to herself now, tucked in close to her chest where no one can touch them. Where no one can tell her she’s wrong.

“I’m telling you,” she says again. “I saw a tail.”

“What color was it?” Shae drops her empty into the bottom of the dinghy and gestures at Perry for another. “I’ve always wanted to know if mermaids have different colored tails. Ariel has the same color tail as her sisters, right?”

“No, they had different colors.” Chrissy sighs softly. “I loved that movie growing up. Eliza Shapiro always picked it to do her book reports on before I could get to it.”

“I always liked Eliza’s presentations.” Perry settles back down in Chrissy’s lap. 

“Eliza was greedy.” Chrissy shrugs. “What? It’s the truth. She could have shared with me at least _once_.”

Nicole ignores them and looks back across the water. It’s calm now, just the gentle in and out there always is. But she’s _sure_ she saw it. A tail. A blue and green one, the color of the water on a perfectly sunny day. Shae squeezes her leg gently and Nicole looks back, smiling distractedly. She nods at Perry talking about the next fishing season and tries to pay attention, but all she can think about is the tail she saw and how close to shore it was; how a mermaid might be walking through town right this minute.

-

Nicole pulls the heavy rope in her hand hard, grinning at Perry when the boat makes a gentle thud against the side of the dock.

“Didn’t expect to see you here,” he says. “Not that I’m complaining,” he adds quickly. “You’re a much better face than the one that usually shows up as I dock.”

Nicole laughs. “You mean you don’t like coming off a boat after a week just to find your future father-in-law waiting for you?”

Perry’s eyes dart up and down the harbor. “Don’t say that too loud.”

Nicole waves a hand around them. “Please. Everyone is already up at Shorty’s. Probably halfway to drunk, too, if I know anything about them”

Perry wrinkles his nose. “Trust me, I know _everything_ about them, and you’re not wrong. “He jumps onto the ock, stretching his arms above his head. “This week felt like I was out there forever.”

Nicole winds the rope around the cleat, tugging hard to make sure the boat won’t drift off into the sea. “It was a long week. The weather wasn’t great.”

Perry nods. “We hit that big storm coming up from the North Atlantic. Mr. Cooper thought we might get stuck out there for a little while longer.” He sways a little and Nicole presses hand down on his shoulder, trying to steady him. “Why _are_ you here instead of Nedley?”

Nicole shrugs. “He asked me if I had the time. Ewan brought back _Brotherhood_ with some nasty damage to the gunwhale.” She nods towards it, a few slips over. “They’re working out what to do about it.”

She looks out of the harbor. The sun is starting to set and there’re long stretches of red and oranges streaks across the sky. _Red sky at night, sailor’s delight. Red sky in morning, sailors take warning_ . Her aunt used to say it sometimes when they would sit on the edge of the gallery deck, staring out over the water. She would tell Nicole stories about sailors chasing sirens into the red morning skies and the clear blue water. _The sirens will sing you a song about whatever you wish for most_ , she’d say. _So you should only ever whisper your dreams and not shout them out. Otherwise, a siren might swim in through your bedroom window and take you away into the night_.

Nicole stared at her with wide eyes. “I can’t swim, though.”

Her aunt laughed. “Then we better teach you how.”

“Hey,” Perry calls from the ramp leading up the harbor lot. “Are you coming?”

Nicole shakes her head and her aunt fades back into the background. She jogs the few feet up the ramp until she elbows Perry gently out of her way, their feet sliding in the loose asphalt. “You were at Shorty’s last weekend, right?”

Perry thinks about it for a minute and then nods. “Why?”

Nicole hesitates. She doesn’t even really know this girl - Waverly. She doesn’t even really know Waverly, but she spent all weekend in the lantern room wondering if Waverly came back to town. If she came with Willa. If she left with Champ. “There was this girl two weeks ago. Long brown hair. She was with…” Nicole gags a little. “She was with Champ?”

Perry snaps his fingers. “Cute, right?”

“I hadn’t noticed,” Nicole says faintly.

Perry doesn’t hear her. “Yeah, I think I saw her. She was with some girl who looked like she just sucked a lemon, I think. They spent the whole night at the tables with Champ and those idiots.” He rolls his eyes. “I don’t know what _anyone_ sees in him. But I know both of those girls, even the grouchy one, are way out of his league.

Nicole sighs. She had tried to get Doc to cover for her but he was on a date with Kate Riley, and Dolls was at some reptile convention in St. John’s with Jeremey. So she waved Chrissy off and picked up her aunt’s worn copy of _Billy Budd_. 

Perry claps her on the shoulder. “Want a beer? Let me buy you a beer.” He starts to steer her towards her old pickup parked in the middle of the lot. “You have to save so you can replace this someday.”

Nicole pats the hood of the truck. “Excuse you. This truck is going to outlast us all.”

“Probably,” Perry agrees. He hops in through the driver’s side and slides across the bench. “You really need to get that door looked at, though.” He cranks the window down and lets his hand drop to the aluminum, tapping out something. Mr. Cooper is fond of old sea shanties. It’s a bad habit Perry has picked up.

“Why’re you asking about that girl?” he asks as Nicole turns the engine over. It hums gently. “You know her?”

Nicole shifts it into drive. “I’ve seen her around,” she offers. “That other girl is her sister, I think. She’s been seeing Champ.”

“The sister?” Perry looks in the side view mirror, pushing his hair back over his ears. He needs a haircut, Chrissy has been complaining. But he keeps pushing it off. _It looks okay for now. We can cut it when I’m done doing the summer runs_ , he keeps saying. “She doesn’t seem like his type.”

“No, the…” Nicole pauses. “The cute one.”

“Oh, see, that’s more Champ’s type.” Perry starts picking through the cassettes in her glove box. She’s not sure why; they’re going to park in front of Shorty’s in a minute or two. “Not as loud as Samantha Baker, though. She seems kind of quiet.”

Nicole thinks back to the other day at the rocks, Waverly and Willa splashing around in the shallow water. She thinks about how Waverly seemed to shrink under Willa’s glare. “I don’t know,” she admits. “But I’m going to find out.”

Perry looks at her sideways. “Oh boy.”

“Oh boy, what?” Nicole eases off the gas and lets the car drift into the spot open in front of the hardware store, one storefront down from the bar.

“Oh boy, you’ve got that look on your face.”

Nicole frowns as she gets out of the truck, moving so Perry can slide out behind her. “What look?”

Perry pokes her in the cheek. “That look that says you’re going to do something and nothing is going to get in your way.”

“I don’t have a look,” she protests.

Perry laughs. “Yes, you do. It’s the same look you got on your face when you climbed the railing of the gallery deck, even though Sarah told you to knock it off. It’s the same you had on your face when you decided you were going to fight Champ.”

“I won that fight,” Nicole points out.

Perry scoffs. “You put your hand on his forehead and swung his arms around like a fish flopping around on the deck.”

“Still won.” She pauses at the door, the wood almost pulsing under her hand. There’s a local band from St. Johns playing tonight. A couple of kids who come out every other week and play for a sea of fisherman who couldn’t care if they were a 4-piece classical board or death metal. But they seem to have fun and they’re not hard to listen to. “Felt pretty good, too.”

Perry shrugs. “Looked like it did.” He brushes by her and into the bar, bee lining for the back corner. Chrissy slides out of the booth and throws her arms around him, grinning.

Nicole takes in the room. The place isn’t as crowded tonight. Most of the fishermen probably went home to their families and a hot meal. Some of the older guys, seasoned after more than 20 years on the water, are sitting at the bar, peeling the labels off the beer bottles Rosita keeps putting in front of them. She waves from behind the bar. Nicole turns to the booth, dodging wild pool sticks. She catches Pete York’s eye and nods at him.

She’s halfway to the back when she stops.

Waverly is there, pressed into a corner by the last pool table near the bathrooms, Champ leaning against the top rail, his jeans scratching the polished wood. She looks up, finding Nicole’s eyes and holds them.

Champ looks up and scowls at her. He shifts his weight so that Waverly is hidden behind his broad shoulders and she looks away. 

Nicole changes direction, heading to the bar instead. “Hey,” she says. “Is the tap fresh?”

Rosita snorts. “It hasn’t been fresh since the last time Bobby here took a shower.”

Bobby shrugs a shoulder. “Not sure when that was.”

“And we can all tell.” Rosita reaches into the bar cooler and pulls out a bottle. She cracks the top and Nicole drinks the foam off the top. “Who’s the girl with Champ?”

“Waverly,” Nicole says, eyes drifting to the pool table. Waverly is smiling tightly at Champ. “I think she’s from St. Johns, or something.”

Rosita hums a little. “She’s a hottie.”

Nicole feels the back of her neck flush. “I didn’t notice.”

Champ slings an arm low around Waverly’s waist, pulling her into his body. Waverly’s eyes flicker to Nicole for just a minute and Nicole lifts the bottle in her hand a little bit, a greeting.

A heavy hand comes down on her shoulder and she turns to face Doc. He smiles warmly under the hat she’s wearing, Doc’s Hardware typed across the front of the panels. “Nicole. How’s that lantern? I heard Cooper saying he got through this past storm with his boat all turned around and just that light to bring his home.”

She’s the lighthouse keeper. Her light leads people home, to their bed and their families. To their home. She gives them a shining spot on the horizon, something to follow through the dark choppy waters. This is her lighthouse. This is her responsibility. These are people. She protects them.

When she finally looks back at the corner table, Waverly and Champ are gone. 

-

Nicole cracks her knuckles, sweat beading on her brow.

“Nicole, don’t,” Chrissy says from behind her. “He’s not worth it.

Champ paces back and forth in front of her, pushing his floppy hair out of his eyes. “What’re you? Chicken.”

“I’m gonna kick your ass,” Nicole promises.

Chrissy grabs the back of her shirt and tugs. “Sarah is going to kick _yours_ if you do this.”

Nicole scowls back over her shoulder. “Did you hear what he said about you? Or do you want him to say it again?”

Chrissy looks over Nicole’s shoulder, eyes hard. “Kick his ass.”

Nicole rocks back onto her heels. Champ is laughing, socking Kyle York in the shoulder. She feels the back of her neck burning, his words fresh in her ears. She clenches her fists tight, her fingernails cutting into her palm painfully. _Thumbs out_ , she reminds herself. _Keep your thumbs out_. She curls them around her knuckles.

“My dad always taught me I shouldn’t hit girls.” Champ shrugs his shoulders. “I’ll make an exception this time.”

Nicole blinks and tries to find the Champ she met when she first moved to town in the kid she sees now. He was nice when she started school. He traded his juice for her mashed potatoes at lunch. But then his dad brought him out on the boat with the Yorks and he came back different. Mean. _Just like his father_ , her aunt had said. _Don’t worry about him, you hear me?_

“Lighthouses are stupid,” Champ says again. “And _you’re_ stupid for thinking selkies are real because they’re _not_. Only babies think so.” He looks at Chrissy again, opening his mouth. “And you’re-”

Nicole lunges forward, catching him in the stomach. Champ lets out a roar and doubles over. Nicole dances backward. Her hand hurts a little now. Champ stands up, touching his side, his eyes wide. “You hit me.”

Nicole narrows her eyes. “We’re _fighting_ Champ.”

Champ takes a step forward and Nicole squares her shoulders, not backing down. “Now I get to hit you,” he decides.

Nicole’s arms drop to her side. “Have you ever been in a fight before?”

Champ sneers and looks back over his shoulder at the small crowd building around them. “Of course. Have _you_?”

“You don’t take turns.” Nicole rolls her eyes and picks her hands up again, curling them into fists. “You try and see who can hit first.”

“I knew that,” Champ growls. “You know what _you_ don’t know? That mermaids and sirens and selkies are for babies. No one believes in them anymore. Only losers like you and her and…” He looks around the circle, eyes landing on Jeremy. “And _him_ believe.”

Nicole falters for a second. Everyone has been saying that lately; that selkies aren’t real. That mermaids don’t exist. That no one has ever seen a siren. They laugh at Nicole’s book reports. Even Eliza doesn’t do her’s on mermaids anymore. But her aunt tells her stories every night. Stories about selkies with long hair and mermaids with shimmering tails and sirens singing sweetly through the dark night. She tells her stories about how even the creatures of the sea follow the lighthouse into the harbor. She’s fourteen but her aunt doesn’t care. _You’re never too old for a story_ , her aunt says. 

“You’re wrong. How do you know they don’t exist?” she demands.

Champ makes a face. “Everyone know they’re not real. They’re fisherman stories. Have _you_ ever seen a selkie?”

Nicole pulls her shoulders back. “Not yet.”

-

Nicole comes down the rocks as Waverly steps onto the sandy inlet. She stops for a second, taking in the careful way that Waverly picks through the rocks. 

“You,” Nicole says.

Waverly jumps a little, wringing out her hair. “You.”

“Nicole.” She sticks out her hand. “It’s Nicole.

Waverly is quiet for a moment, looking at Nicole’s hand carefully before she takes it. She shakes it gently. “Nicole.”

Nicole smiles, tipping her head to the side. “You know, there really is a better way to get onto land than this.” She looks past Waverly’s shoulder, for the dinghy Waverly must have come in on. “If you left from the harbor, there’s a small inlet just past here. Bigger shore for you to dock. Or you can tie up to the old post there.” 

Waverly looks back over her shoulder. “Okay. I’ll- We’ll remember that for next time.”

Nicole follows Waverly’s eyes. “Is your sister coming today?”

Waverly’s head snaps around, her eyes wide. “She’s… She’s on her way. She wanted to… Uh… She wanted to-” Waverly closes her mouth suddenly. “She’s coming,” she finally says. She takes quick steps towards Nicole and Nicole takes the same steps backward. “I can wait for her up there.” She points to the lighthouse. “She’ll know where to find me.”

Waverly slips past Nicole and Nicole follows, taking careful steps until they’re at the base of the lighthouse, the tiny inlet hidden from her sight. The sun is just setting now and it settles in the waves of Waverly’s hair like a red and orange crown. Nicole can’t look away from it. Waverly looks past her, to the sea, eyes unblinking.

“You like the water,” Nicole says, too loudly in the quiet space between them. She winces.

Waverly startles. “What?”

“The water. You like it.” Nicole sweeps her arm across the horizon.

“Oh,” Waverly says softly. There’s a faint smile on her face now. “It’s just so beautiful from here, isn’t it? You don’t see it when you’re in the water. But up here, where it goes on for miles… It’s beautiful.”

Nicole feels something shift in her chest. “It’s everything,” she agrees. “It’s my whole life, actually.” 

Waverly looks at her with wide eyes. “It is?”

Nicole hooks a thumb over her shoulder at the lighthouse. “That’s my home. The sea is my job.”

Waverly stares at her for a long moment. “You’re the lighthouse keeper.”

“I’m the lighthouse keeper.” Nicole pushes her hair out of her face, smiling.

Waverly smiles back. “That’s a big job,” she says. She looks back over the water. “You’re in charge of so many things. Of so much life.”

 _The mermaids, the sirens, the selkie_.

Nicole touches the large sun-warm rock at her side, perching on the edge of it. Waverly turns back to her and sits down on another rock, their feet angled in towards each other. “You like it?” Nicole asks.

Waverly tips her head. “Like what?”

“The sea.” Nicole nods towards the shoreline. “Do you like the water?”

Waverly sighs softly. “I love it. The water is… It’s beautiful, you know? There’s so much under the surface that no one ever talks about. A world, really. Where everything has its place and its own life.” She sits up straighter, shifting forward on the rock. “Do you know what lives under those waters? There are things we could never even imagine under the surface. Whole worlds of fish and life and creatures that only exist in people’s wildest imagination. I think about it and I-” She stops and flushes, sitting back. “I mean, yes. I love the water.”

Nicole smiles softly. “You don’t have to be embarrassed. I love the water, too.”

“Well, you’re the lighthouse keeper,” Waverly says. She looks up at the lighthouse. “Isn’t it part of the job description?”

Nicole leans back on her hands. “Yeah, it is.”

Waverly leans forward again. “What do you love about it?”

“I love…” Nicole thinks it over. “I love how it doesn’t belong to us, you know? Does that make sense?” She doesn’t wait for Waverly’s answer. “I love how it belongs entirely to itself. And to the life that lives inside of it.” She looks up at Waverly. 

Waverly opens her mouth, eyes bright.

“Waverly,” a voice says sharply. Willa comes climbing up from the path, annoyance etched into the lines on her face. “I told you to _wait_.”

Waverly’s eyes dim and she smiles tightly. “Nicole came down to see me.

“Nicole,” Willa repeats. Her name sounds like a swear in Willa’s mouth. “Well, wasn’t that very _chivalrous_ of her.” She rolls her eyes. “Now, we have somewhere to be, don’t we Waverly.”

Waverly sighs just soft enough for Nicole to hear her. “Right. Champ.”

“Champ,” Willa repeats. “He doesn’t like to be kept waiting.” She pauses, eyes dark. “Daddy doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”

“I know,” Waverly says quietly. She turns to Nicole, a small smile on her face. “It was nice talking to you, Nicole. Lighthouse keeper,” she adds.

Nicole stands, wiping her hands off on her jeans. “It was nice talking to you, too. Maybe we can do it again sometime.”

Willa huffs. “Not likely. Come _on_ , Waverly.” She grabs for Waverly’s elbow, squeezing tight enough that Waverly winces a little, and pulls her away from the base of the lighthouse.

Nicole watches them go past her truck and towards the small road that leads to the lighthouse, heads bent together and Willa whispering something furiously. She smiles a little. Waverly loves the sea. She loves the lighthouse.

Something warm settles in her chest, a comfortable weight that feels like it was made to sit there. 

She turns back to the lighthouse and smiles wider. The lantern spins and spins and Nicole watches its light dance across the water.

She’s the lighthouse keeper.

-

Nicole slides down a little in bed, getting comfortable. “What do you love about the lighthouse?” she asks.

Her aunt pauses, hands resting on the closed _Captain Underpants and the Perilous Plot of Professor Poopypants_ book she was reading tonight. “What do you mean?”

“What I said.” She looks away and sighs. “Sorry,” she mumbles.

“You and this attitude,” her aunt warns. “It’s got to go.”

Nicole sinks back into the bedsheets. “I know.”

Her aunt taps her fingers against the top of the book cover and purses her lips. “I think a better question would be what _don’t_ I love about the lighthouse. I’ll tell you, I don’t love the hours. If I know the boats are coming in, I’m up there manning the light all night.” She brushes some hair off of Nicole’s forehead. “But I suppose I love guiding the boats into the dock, so it makes up for the missed nights of sleep.”

Nicole’s eyes flutter. “So you love everything about it.”

Her aunt smiles. “I guess I do.”

She yawns sleepily, turning so she can feel the cool pillowcase against her cheek. “Do you think I’m going to love everything about the lighthouse, too?”

Her aunt dusts a kiss across her forehead. “I know it, Nicole Haught. It’s what we’re destined for.”


	4. across the sea one night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Her aunt gives her a sad smile. “You don’t have to believe in it, Nicole,” she says after a minute.
> 
> Something like regret pools in her stomach. “I…” She takes a deep breath. “I don’t think I do anymore.”

Chrissy sighs and swings her legs back and forth off the tailgate of the truck. She rests an arm on the cooler between them and sighs again.

Nicole smiles around her beer bottle. “Something bothering you, Nedley?”

“Perry,” Chrissy says almost immediately. “He keeps talking about going back onto the boat.”

“But he just got back.” Nicole tips her bottle up, drinking the last sip before she pushes Chrissy’s arm off the cooler top and opens it, taking out another one.

Chrissy sighs a third time. “I know. But he thinks he needs to get out there or Mr. Cooper is going to give his spot to someone else when they go out for the season.” She drops her empty into the cooler before Nicole closes it. “I think he’s trying to impress my father, really.”

“Your dad likes him.” Nicole looks up at the black sky. The lantern spins across it like a soft reminder that this is the way home. “He just has a different way of showing it.”

Chrissy nods. “Exactly. He doesn’t have to prove anything to Dad. He likes Perry. Sure, he doesn’t like that he caught Perry unhooking my bra sophomore year, but he stopped threatening to kill him years ago.” She smiles. “And it’s not like he cared when he caught you doing it.”

The beer goes down the wrong pipe and Nicole chokes on it. It speckles across her jeans and the tailgate. “That was- That was _completely_ different.”

Chrissy pats her leg. “Sure it was, honey.” She sighs again. “But he still won’t stay, will he? I’m going to marry a man who was made to be on the water.”

Nicole drops her hand over Chrissy’s. “Everyone in this town is made to be on the water.” She pauses. “Well, except Jeremy. He gets violently ill when he goes on anything that rocks.”

“He doesn’t count. He moved here when he was, like, seven,” Chrissy says dismissively.

“So did I,” Nicole points out.

Chrissy waves a hand at her. “I think you were destined for this town.” Nicole rolls her eyes. “Oh, whatever. Don’t think I don’t know you think the same thing.”

“I told you that when I was _thirteen_.” She scowls at Chrissy.

Chrissy makes a soft noise in her throat. “Do you think we’re destined for things? Like, really destined?”

Nicole shrugs. “Maybe. I used to think so.” She snorts. “I used to think a lot of things when I was younger.”

“Mermaids,” Chrissy teases.

Nicole sighs heavily. “I was a kid. _You_ believed in mermaids.”

Chrissy shakes her head. “No, you believed in a different way. We couldn’t convince you of anything else.”

“Sarah believed.” Nicole rolls her bottle between her hands. “I think that’s why I did too.”

Chrissy is quiet for a long moment. They listen to the fireflies and the water hitting the rocks. Nicole follows the lantern around in circles until she gets dizzy. They do this, her and Chrissy, every so often. Get a cooler of drinks and park the truck down at the docks where the water laps gently against the wood and the boats bump back and forth. Doc mans the lighthouse for her. Sometimes after she watches Chrissy walk to Perry’s car in the dark, she stays, watching the black sea roil back and forth.

She’s always loved the water, if she thinks about it. Before Purgatory, it was spending hours in a pool, treading water until her fingers and toes were wrinkled. Now, it’s standing on the gallery deck and watching the water below. Her water. Her lighthouse at the shore’s edge guiding the boats home.

“It was hard not to believe,” she admits to the night sky. “Sarah was so… _passionate_ about those kinds of things. She told me about mermaids and sirens with so much, I don’t know. Conviction? Like there was never any doubt to it.” She takes another sip of her beer. “That even though she had never actually seen one on her own, she was so convinced that they were out there, waiting to be found.”

Chrissy smiles softly in the dark, just barely visible as the lantern goes around and around. “Do you really think they’re waiting to be found?”

Nicole smiles back, pressing her bottle to her lips. “No,” she says after she takes a sip. “I think they don’t want anything to do with us.” She curls her fingers around the edge of the tailgate. “Humans can be… awful. Scary. Selfish and furious. We’re cruel. We take and we steal. We hurt each other.”

“We can be good,” Chrissy says after a minute. “Some of us. Not Champ.” She shudders.

Nicole snorts softly. “Not Champ.” She breathes out slowly. “He wasn’t always like that. I mean, sometimes he was, but he didn’t start out that way, did he?.”

“Well, James Hardy and the rodeo changes people,” Chrissy says. She tries for something somber but she can’t hide her smile. 

Nicole thinks about it for a minute. “Failure does.” She clears her throat and finishes her beer. “Sarah thought we were good people. Humans, I mean. She thought we were good and kind.” Her throat tightens back up. It’s been months and the air is getting colder, but the sting of losing her aunt still sits heavy in her chest. Something warm settles on her hand and she turns hers over, Chrissy’s palm soft against hers. “She always believed in the best about people. If anyone…” Nicole breathes in. “If anyone deserved to meet a mermaid, it was her.”

Chrissy sighs and squeezes her hand gently. Headlights cut through the dark as Perry pulls the car in. Chrissy looks back over her shoulder, forehead wrinkled. 

Nicole laughs wetly. “Go. It’s late.”

“Nicole,” Chrissy starts.

Nicole waves her off. “I’m serious. It’s late. I’m gonna head out in a few anyway.” She picks up their empties and drops them in the cooler, the sound of glass against glass twinkling around them. “Go,” she says again. She forces a smile. “Tell Perry I said hey, okay?”

Chrissy waits a minute longer before she leans over the cooler, pressing a fleeting kiss to Nicole’s temple. “See you tomorrow.”

Nicole nods. “Yeah,” she says, voice hardly cracking. “Yeah, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

The gravel crunches underneath Chrissy’s feet as she disappears into the parking lot. Nicole hears a car door open and the soft sound of a radio playing before the door closes again. The headlights disappear.

She stares across the water at the endless black sky. Stars poke like holes in through the darker clouds. The lantern spins around, mesmerizing. She watches the boats, dark shares in the night, and she breathes in the cool night air, filling her lungs. Her aunt believed in people. In their goodness.

And right now, in the quiet night, breathing in and out in time with the boats bumping against the docks, she does too.

-

Her aunt pauses in the doorway, hand over the lightswitch. “Are you sure you don’t want to hear about-”

Nicole sighs heavily. “I’m not a baby, you know.”

Something wounded flashes across her aunt’s face. “I know that.”

“I’m fourteen,” Nicole continues. “I’m practically ready to drive, you know.”

Her aunt snorts. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, girl. You’ve got years left to go.” She shifts her weight from foot to foot. “What’s bothering you?”

Nicole sighs heavily again.

Her aunt walks into the room, smiling softly. “Want to hear about the mermaid who swam into the harbor and fell in love with Cecil Wright?” She sits on the edge of Nicole’s bed. “She had long, raven hair that stretched to her waist and-”

“No,” Nicole says, voice thick. She shakes her head. “I don’t want to hear about mermaids.”

Her aunt’s smile dims for a minute. “What about the sirens, then? Did you know there are three kinds of sirens? One overseen by Zeus, another by Posiden, and the third by Hades? The kind that came to shore belonged to Posiden. She seduced your grandfather’s friend Henry and-”

Nicole sucks in a breath. Her aunt frowns.

“Selkies? Your great-grandfather, he-”

“I don’t believe in them anymore,” Nicole blurts out. The words seem to suck the air out of the room. Nicole can taste salt in the air. She licks her lips. “I don’t… I don’t believe in them anymore. Selkies aren’t… they can’t actually be real.”

Her aunt just stares at her. 

“I don’t,” Nicole says again. There’s a pressure building in her chest that she tries to ignore.

Her aunt gives her a sad smile. “You don’t have to believe in it, Nicole,” she says after a minute.

Something like regret pools in her stomach. “I…” She takes a deep breath. “I don’t think I do anymore.” She thinks about pulling Jeremy out of his locker, the fear in his eyes. “They’re just tall tales, aren’t they?”

Her aunt is quiet for a long moment, staring at Nicole with unblinking eyes. “If that’s what you want to think.”

“I do,” Nicole says fiercely. “I do.”

Her aunt looks down at Nicole’s dark blue comforter, then out the window at the dark sky. “Okay, honey.”

Nicole shrinks into the sheets. “Are you mad at me?” she asks quietly.

“Oh, Nicole.” Her aunt leans forward, dusting her forehead with a kiss. “I hope that someday you believe again. But if you never do, I’ll love you all the same.”

She watches her aunt leave the room, hand lingering on the lightswitch before she nods at Nicole and flips it off, slipping into the dark hallway. Argos and Piscis twinkle on the ceiling above her. She knows their myths, can recite them in her sleep. Argo the ship that took Jason and the Agronauts to the Golden Fleece. Picses, two fish escaping Typhon. Some night, she feels Jason, constantly searching for something just out of reach. Other nights, she feels like a fish escaping into the inky sky.

She closes her eyes against their soft green glow and tries to dream of something _normal_ like the rest of her friends.

-

Nicole claps a hand down over the rock foundation of the lighthouse. She needs to do some tidying around the base, trimming back some of the fading bushes. The gallery deck needs another board replaced. She’s picked up some redwood at Doc’s, special order. Maybe something denser will hold out against the winter weather coming. 

She adjusts her tool belt around her waist and picks up the old baseball cap that belonged to her aunt. The Black Badge logo is fading from years in the sun and the bill is salt-stained. But it fits snug on her head and it keeps the sun out of her eyes. It makes her feel closer to her aunt. Like she’s still here, her spirit living inside the lighthouse she loved so much. 

“Let’s go,” she says to herself. She hoists the redwood up under her arm and starts to climb the hundred stairs to the top of the lighthouse. Her arms ache by the time she gets there and she’s already sweating. The air is cooler up so high where the breeze isn’t stopped by the rocks littering the shore, but the sun is closer and it’s hot today, sinking in through her heavy shirt. She stops to roll her sleeves up in careful, even folds.

She slips her phone out of her tool belt and rests it inside the lantern room. She opens her music app, scrolling through the songs until she finds something she wants to listen to.

Bruce Springsteen starts to fill the air around her. _Screen door slams, Mary’s dress waves_ , he sings.

Nicole pulls her hammer out next, turning it over and sliding the claw under the nail head. It takes a few good tugs before the nail starts to wiggle. She pulls carefully so the nail doesn’t go shooting into the sky and fall to the ground below. When it’s loose enough, she pries it out with her fingers and puts it in her tool belt. The board is easy to pull up after the first nail comes out and she makes quick work of it, lifting it carefully above her to put it into the lantern room.

The redwood is smooth under her hand and heavy in her hold. She balances carefully on the ledge of the window leading to the lantern room, a nail in her mouth as she places the board in the place she wants it to be in. The wood is dense and it takes a few hard strikes for the nail to sink into it, but it settles easily enough. She hammers it into place and runs a hand down the grain of it. It’s darker than the pine but it looks good against the white-washed concrete. _I’ll have to paint too,_ she thinks. 

She peels up each piece of pine, balancing on the redwood she puts down in its place as she works her way around the gallery deck. She develops a rhythm: one, two, sink Over and over and over again. She lays another board down. _One, two, sink_.

Bruce Springsteen plays on.

When she’s done, there’s a pile of pine in the lantern room and fresh redwood outside of the windows. She climbs over them, settling on them and hanging her feet over the edge, chin resting on the railing. She can see the whole of the sea from up here, as far as it stretches. In the distance, the horizon is speckled with boats. She’s not sure if they’re coming closer or moving away. Some of them might be docking in the harbor tonight, but some might have pushed off this morning, the wind at their backs. She lets the soft breeze cool the back of her neck and then sighs. There’s still more to do.

She climbs back down the stairs, legs aching with the effort and her arms full of old pine. She’s panting by the time she gets to the base and stumbles out into the cool air. She drops the loose lumber at her feet, leaning over and resting her hands on her knees. 

This is her lighthouse. This is her job. This is the reason she exists here, in this town, with these people. She guides them across the water. She leads the boats on the water to safe shores. They believe in her. They trust her. They trust the light to always bring them home.

She rests a hand against the sun-warm base of the lighthouse and takes a deep breath in. The highbush cranberry and bunchberry need to be trimmed back before the first cold snap of the season. The rocks on the front of the lighthouse need moving. There’s still cracks that need filling. A window needs replacing. The lantern needs to be tightened in place.

But this is hers. This is home.

-

She hears the splashing just as the sun is setting and she _knows_.

“Waverly,” she breathes as she puts down the spade in her hand. She dusts her hands off on her old Purgatory High sweatshirt and then pushes her hair back. She tries to slow herself down as she slides down the small path to the inlet, but she still has to put a hand behind her to try and steady herself.

She gets to the edge of the inlet where the water meets the shore, but Waverly isn’t there.

Nicole’s shoulders drop. She’s been looking forward to Waverly coming back, but she hasn’t been on any of the tour boats from St. Johns. Nicole has been looking to see if Waverly is there among the crowd, long brown hair blowing behind her.

“Must have been a seal,” she says out loud. She turns back to the lighthouse, taking a deep breath, but she hears the splashing again. The water comes over the tops of her boots when she spins again. “Waverly?” she tries.

Someone behind a large rock on the face of the shore screeches. “Don’t come over here!”

Nicole pulls up short, unaware she was moving towards the sound. “Waverly?” she says again.

“Nicole?” A head pops out from behind the rock. Waverly frowns. “What are you doing here?”

Nicole hooks a thumb over her shoulder. “My lighthouse,” she says. She winces as soon as the words leave her mouth.

“ _Oh_ ,” Waverly breathes. “Right. Because it’s- your- uh, it’s-” She takes a deep breath. “It’s your lighthouse.”

“My lighthouse,” Nicole repeats.

Waverly starts to slide forward out from behind the rock but her eyes widen and she dips back out of sight. “Uh, Nicole? Could you, uh…”

“What?” Nicole asks too quickly.

“My clothes,” Waverly says, her voice high. “Could you get my clothes?”

Nicole’s mouth goes a little dry. People skinny dip all the time out here. Chrissy used to do it when they would steal Perry’s dad’s dinghy and drift on the water for the afternoon. She would throw her clothes off until she was down to her underpants and her bra, then dive gracefully into the cold sea. Nicole would roll her eyes and open another beer, ignoring Perry going crosseyed as he watched Chrissy in the water.

Only, the idea of Chrissy in her bra didn’t leave her with a knot in the pit of her stomach. 

Shae did, though.

“Sure,” Nicole finally says. She rolls her eyes at herself. “ _Sure_ ,” she mutters under the sound of the water. “Where are they?” she asks louder.

“Under the big rock that looks like a-”

“A moon,” Nicole finishes. The cresent-shape lines the small wall the leads to the big rock Waverly is hiding behind. Nicole slips over the wet rocks grabbing the small bag tucked into the sand. She steadies herself with one hand as she goes further into the water towards Waverly. “Here,” she stays, thrusting her arm out.

Waverly’s fingers brush against hers as she takes the bag. “Thanks,” she says, voice small.

Nicole slides back over the rocks and to the shoreline, toeing the wet sand and writing her initials in it. She used to do that when she was younger; write out her whole name and let the sea swallow it whole. She belonged to the water, she figured. It should know who she is. She looks up when she hears the splashing noises and Waverly is there, her jeans damp at the ankles and the sleeves of her sweatshirt falling down over her hands.

“Sorry about that,” she says, picking rocks carefully. She sways when she gets to the shoreline. Nicole almost reaches out but stops herself. 

“For what? People come out here all the time and leave their clothes behind.” She can’t stop the way she looks over Waverly, from the point of her chin to the bare tips of her toes. She looks back up and meets Waverly’s eyes, feeling the back of her neck burn in embarrassment. “I mean, so I hear.”

Waverly smiles a little. “Are you speaking from experience?”

Nicole takes a step back and holds up a hand. “Can I plead the fifth?”

“Your face kind of gave you away.” Waverly smiles and it catches the setting sun.

The wind whips off the small waves at their feet and Nicole looks down, frowning. “Why don’t we go up. Your feet are going to get cold if we stay out here much longer.

Waverly looks back over her shoulder at the big rock she was hiding behind earlier. Her smile is hesitant now. “I don’t know that I should have come here,” she admits.

Nicole tips her head to one side. “To Purgatory?”

“Alone, I mean.” Waverly looks back again. “I wasn’t supposed to come, but my Daddy was yelling about-” She stops.

Nicole reaches out now, her hand curling around Waverly’s elbow. “Yelling?”

Waverly shakes her head, clearing her eyes. “It was silly. Daddy yells a lot.” She forces a laugh. “I like to think that if he’s not yelling, he’s not talking right.”

The water laps up over the lip of Nicole’s boot and through her jeans, cold against her leg. Waverly shivers a little, pulling her arms tight around her body. Her sweatshirt is big, like it doesn’t belong to her, but it’s too thin to do anything but look good on her.

“Come on,” Nicole says. She takes Waverly’s hand, ignoring the spark she feels in the tips of her fingers. “I was just about to reheat some coffee. But if you want some, I’ll make a fresh pot.”

Waverly hesitates.

Nicole tugs gently on Waverly’s hand. “Please. I can’t just let you stand here and freeze to death.”

Waverly follows. “That’s a little dramatic,” she says.

Nicole flashes her a smile over her shoulder. “Ask my friends. I can be a little dramatic when I need to be.” She lets go of Waverly’s hand when they hit the base of the lighthouse, holding open the door and letting Waverly count the steps up to the place Nicole has called home for almost two decades. “It’s not much,” she apologies as she opens the door. “But it’s home.”

Waverly steps inside, eyes wide as she takes it in. Nicole is suddenly conscious of the space. Of the large map on the wall and her yellow raincoat by the door. The small kitchen area that spills out into the living room, shirts and shoes scattered around. The TV flickers, the sound turned down but the light washing across the old rug in the middle of the room. The hallway that leads down to the bedroom littered with pictures of her aunt and her, the water behind them in every one of them. _It’s not well lit_ , she thinks suddenly. And her favorite armchair suddenly looks old and too worn.

But Waverly is standing in front of her map, eyes wide as she looks it over. “Is this really the whole world?”

Nicole rubs a hand through her hair. “Yeah, it is. Have you ever seen a map?” she jokes.

Waverly’s cheeks go pink. “I have. I just… haven’t seen one _this_ big before.” She reaches out, her hand hovering above it before she finally touches the tip of Baffin Bay. “This is us?”

Nicole comes up to stand next to her. “That’s our little corner of the world.”

“It’s _beautiful_ ,” Waverly breathes. She runs her hand over the map, touching the Labrador Sea, the Gulf of St. Lawrence. She drags her fingertip over the Bay of Biscay. The North Sea. The Gulf of Bothnia. She lingers on the Barents Sea. 

Nicole watches her and thinks of Shae. Waverly doesn’t move, hand still moving over the map as she lingers at the different bays and seas and oceans. Nicole smiles and lets her be, turning to the kitchen and looking for a clean mug for tea. She finally finds one and rinses out another for herself, setting the water onto boil. She leans back against the counter as Waverly wanders around, stopping in front of the wall of pictures. 

“Your mom?” she asks.

Nicole pushes off the counter. “My aunt. She practically raised me, though.” She touches the corner of the one of the frames, righting it. “She was the lighthouse keeper before me.”

Waverly smiles softly. “You look very happy.”

“I was,” Nicole breathes. She clears her suddenly dry throat. “She passed a few months ago.”

Waverly turns to her. “I’m so sorry. My mom…” She takes a deep breath. “I lost her a long time ago.”

The kettle goes off but Nicole doesn’t move for a moment, staring at Waverly instead. Waverly slips around her and takes the water off the stove, pouring it into the mugs Nicole set out. She adds the tea bags on the counter. “Honey?”

Nicole points to the cabinet just behind Waverly. “I think there’s some left in there.” She takes the mug that Waverly offers her and sits down at the kitchen table, kicking out the other chair for Waverly. “My aunt used to add honey to hers.”

“I only just tried it. It makes it sweeter. I like that.” Waverly makes a face. “My sister likes whiskey in hers.”

Nicole snorts. “ _Willa_ likes whiskey in her tea?”

Waverly flushes. “Oh, no. Not her. My other sister. Wynonna.”

“Wynonna,” Nicole repeats. “You guys like your W names, huh?”

Waverly blows on her tea before taking a small sip. “It’s a family thing. My dad-” She stops suddenly. “How long have you lived in the lighthouse?”

Nicole takes a second to catch up. “About eighteen years. I moved in when I was 10. _My_ dad just… dropped me off one day. It was me and Sarah from then on.”

“Sarah,” Waverly says. “That’s a nice name.” She looks back at the wall of pictures. Nicole follows her eyes, finding the picture Sarah took of her the first week she moved in, standing with one hand on the base of the lighthouse, Sarah’s old hat on her head. “She looks like she was a nice person. I mean, in her pictures, she looks-”

“She was,” Nicole interrupts. “She was the best. She loved the water. She loved the sea. She especially loved this lighthouse.” She smiles to herself. “She always said it was her first love.”

Waverly takes another sip of her tea. “I’ve only read about lighthouse keepers,” she admits. “And I always thought of them as old men with big beards. Yellow raincoats. Standing in the rain with-” She stops, biting on her bottom lip. “That’s silly of me.”

Nicole waves a hand at her. “It’s not silly. We’re poorly represented as a people.”

Waverly sits back in her seat and sighs softly. “I like it here. It’s quiet. And warm. And…” She looks around. “It feels like a _home_.” She looks around again and nods. “Like home.”.

Nicole sips her tea quietly, watching Waverly look around and take it all in. She’s never really not thought of this as home. Even the places she lived before, with her dad, didn’t feel like home the way the lighthouse felt like home. _Like Sarah felt home_ , she thinks.

“I don’t think you should get back on the boat tonight,” she finally says. She cups her hands around her mug, sucking the warmth out of the ceramic. She looks past Waverly at the weather channel on the TV. “There’s supposed to be high winds tonight.”

But Waverly’s eyes look a little panicked as she looks at the clock on the wall. “Oh, no. I _have_ to get back.”

“I can drive you,” Nicole offers. “Then you can come and get your boat tomorrow. In the daylight.”

Waverly is already standing up, putting her mug down on the table, the tea only half gone. “My dad, he’s going to be looking for me. I was supposed to-” She stops herself, hands fluttering in front of her. “I was supposed to be somewhere tonight and I didn’t go and-and I-”

Nicole stands up, her chair scraping noisily behind her. “Let me make sure you get on your boat, then.”

“No, no.” Waverly backs up to the door, bumping into it. “I have to go. Now. I have to go now.” She pulls open the door and starts down the steps, the sound of her feet fading as she gets farther away.

Nicole follows her, trying to catch up, but by the time she gets to the shoreline, she can’t see Waverly at all. She listens to the sound of the water lap against the outcropping of rocks and breathes out quietly, hoping the mermaids and the sirens and the selkies make sure Waverly gets home safely.

-

“Now, _pull_ ,” her aunt shouts.

Nicole tightens her grip on the paddles in her hands and pulls her arms back as hard as she can against the current. The paddle slips from her right hand, dipping out into the water.

Her aunt laughs and leans over in the dinghy, pulling the paddle back into her lap.

Nicole growls in frustration.

“It’s not easy,” her aunt tells her. “I didn’t learn how to row one of these until I was fifteen or sixteen. I almost learned how to drive a car before I learned how to do this.” She hands Nicole the paddle. “We can keep trying or we can take a break. It’s up to you.”

Nicole grinds her teeth together. “Champ Hardy can do it. _I_ want to do it.”

Her aunt smiles. “Then we’ll keep trying.”

The dinghy bobs on the open water, the lighthouse over her aunt’s shoulder on the shore. The sun has barely come up and it’s still dark if Nicole looks far out towards the horizon. She had pulled her aunt out of bed this morning and given her the coffee she made all on her own. She watched her aunt choke it down and then pushed her out the door towards the shore where her aunt tied up their small dinghy. Nicole loved to sit in it and feel the way it went up and down with the water. She always let her aunt row, but Champ had been talking at school about how his dad took him out far and Champ rowed all the way back in by himself.

 _Anything he can do, I can do better_ , Nicole had thought.

She pulls on the oars again, grinning when the dinghy cuts through the water a foot. Her smile drops when the dinghy bobs backwards.

“No,” her aunt says before Nicole can say anything. “You did it right. The water is strong, young lady. Stronger than you and me and the whole town put together. There’s almost nothing as strong as water is.”

Nicole slumps over in her seat, staring at her untied shoelaces. “I wish I was stronger.”

Her aunt leans forward, putting a finger under Nicole’s chin and lifting until they’re eye to eye. “Not even Poseiden is as strong as the water. And you’d do well to remember that.” She curls her hands over Nicole’s on the knob of the paddle and nods surely. “Now, why don’t we give it another go? And then we’ll stop and get some ice cream after this?”

Nicole takes a deep breath and sits up straighter. She wiggles her hands until her aunt lets go. “I’ve got this.” She leans forward, shoulders straight, and chin in the air. She breathes out and throws herself backward, pulling the paddles through the water in a clean slice. She does it again, quickly, and the dinghy rocks forward against the current, cutting through a small ripple of water.

Her aunt shouts, arms above her hands. The dinghy rocks wildly and Nicole lets go of the oars to hold onto the sides. Her aunt doesn’t seem to care, shifting back and forth in her seat as she shouts Nicole’s name loud enough for them to hear it back on the shore. Nicole smiles widely. 

And then she sees it. A ripple in the distance. Something pokes up out of the water but Nicole too far away to see what it is. She watches it disappear and come up again, a shape she thinks she knows. 

“Oh,” her aunt says softly. “Do you see that?”

“You see it?”

Her aunt nods. “Of course I do. Over there, just beyond those waves.” She leans in, her smile growing. “What do you think it is?”

Nicole feels something bubble up in her chest. “I don’t know. What do you think?”

“Could be anything.” Her aunt shrugs a shoulder. “What do you want to _believe_ it is?”

Nicole takes a deep breath. That feeling in her chest tightens a little at the possibilities. It could be a fish. A dolphin or a whale. Maybe a porpoise.

 _But_ , a voice inside of her says. _It might be a mermaid. Maybe that was a tail. Or maybe it was a selkie_.

Her aunt reaches out and squeezes her shoulder gently. “You don’t have to know right now, Nicole. You can wait. Think about it. Believe in it.” She smiles widely. “And while you’re thinking, why don’t you row us home.”

Nicole’s eyes widen. She looks over her aunt’s shoulder towards the shoreline. “But that’s _forever_ from here.”

Her aunt leans back a little, lacing her hands together behind her head. “Then you better get going, girl. I’d like to get home before the sun goes down.”

Nicole narrows her eyes, tightens her grip on the oars, and pulls back. 

-

Nicole comes down the stairs, running a hand through her still-wet hair, tossing it messily. The back of her neck is already damp and she just got out of the shower. She’s late and she’s sure Chrissy is waiting for her, a sweating bottle of beer on the bar top. She pats down her pockets, checking for her wallet and her keys. Doc is going to come by in about an hour to camp out in the lantern room for her so she doesn’t lock the top lock on her way out. 

Her boots slide a little against the gravel as she rounds her truck, already fishing her keys out to start the truck. She skids to a stop as she sees someone leaning up against the driver’s door, head bent over a book.

“Waverly?”

Waverly looks up, eyes wide. “Oh. You’re here.”

Nicole looks over her shoulder. “This is my house.” She points forward. “That’s my truck.”

“Oh.” Waverly tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “I wasn’t sure if you were going to come down.”

Nicole leans against the side of the truck, hip against the wheel well. “So you were just going to wait here all night?”

Waverly’s cheeks go pink. “I would have knocked eventually.”

“Okay,” Nicole says simply. She looks around and down to the inlet. She doesn’t see Waverly’s dinghy, which isn’t surprising. “Did you drive down?”

“No, I…” Waverly gestures towards the water. “You know.”

Nicole smiles at her. “There are other ways to get to Purgatory, you know. We have roads.”

Waverly’s shoulders tighten. “I like the water.”

“Me too.” Nicole pushes off the truck, swinging her keys around one finger. “I was going to head to Shorty’s. Did you want to come?” She wets her lips. “Champ will probably be there.”

Something flashes across Waverly’s face. Just a flicker of something Nicole wants to know more about. “I’m supposed to meet him there,” she says.

Nicole swallows against her dry throat. Seeing Waverly and Champ together the last time she was Shorty’s made her a little sick to her stomach. The way he was hanging off her, pulling her close into his side. She tried to push the feeling down. Waverly is a big girl who can do what she wants. And anyway, Nicole doesn’t _know_ Waverly.

It doesn’t mean she doesn’t want to know Waverly. She wants that very much.

“I don’t really want to meet him,” Waverly admits.

“So stay here,” Nicole says quickly. She clears her throat. “I mean. Stay. I have some beers upstairs.”

“Okay,” Waverly says just as quickly.

“Okay,” Nicole repeats. She takes a step back, the heel of one foot getting in the way of the other. She holds on tight to the rail of the truck, steadying herself. “Cool. Let me just grab some and I’ll be right back down.” She pulls down on the tailgate, letting it bounce in the frame. “Sit. I’ll be right back.”

Waverly smiles at her and pushes up onto the tailgate easily, hands curling around the edge as she swings her legs. Nicole backs into the door, fumbling with the lock as she tries to fish her phone out of her pocket. She fires off a text to Chrissy as she pulls some cold beers out of the fridge and loads them into one of the old fishing crates she keeps her laundry in. They rock back and forth as she carries them down the stairs. She pauses at the bottom, taking a deep breath before she pushes back out in the open air.

Waverly is still sitting on the tailgate, still swinging her legs as she looks up at the sky. The sun is starting to set and there are long stretches of light that hit the rocks that sit in the inlet and line the shore. Nicole paues for a moment just to watch her. There’s something about Waverly that Nicole can’t wuite put her finger on, but she wants to try. She wants to know more about Waverly. She thinks maybe she knew Waverly before, in some other life.

Her aunt always believed int hat kind of thing. 

“Here,” she says, thrusting a beer in Waverly’s direction.

Waverly takes it and holds it between two hands, fingers curling around the bottle. Nicole slides onto the tailgate next to her, leaning back on one hand as she lifts the other, taking a sip of her beer. She looks over the water. It’s dark blue in the distance where the sun is already starting to set. It sits low in the sky above the sea. Nicole can barely see the lantern spinning over its surface.

“Did you always want to be a lighthouse keeper?” Waverly’s voice cuts through the comfortable silence.

Nicole smiles. “Ever since I moved in with my aunt.” She laughs a little. “Before that, I wanted to be a cop, actually.”

“A cop,” Waverly repeats. “I think lighthouse keeper is better than that.”

“I do, too.” Nicole looks up at the dome of the lighthouse. “I’ve always liked the idea of working from home.” She looks back at Waverly. “What do you do?”

Waverly looks away over the water. “Oh, I-” She stops and picks at the label on the bottle. “I like history.”

Nicole makes a face. “I was never very good at history. I could never get the dates straight.”

“Oh, not that kind of history. Magical history. Water,” she says quickly. “Water history.”

“Like pirates?” Nicole shifts her weight until she’s leaning against the side of the cab, one foot stretched out and nearly touching Waverly’s shin.

Waverly turns to face her, bringing her legs up under her. “Pirates. Ships.” She pauses. “Mermaids.”

 _Mermaids_ , Nicole thinks. There’s a fizzle in her chest that starts to spread into her fingertips. “Mermaids. You know, I used to believe in mermaids.”

“Used to,” Waverly repeats. She pushes her hair out of her face. “What do you mean you _used to_?”

“Well, they can’t actually be real.” Nicole snorts. “That didn’t stop my aunt from believing in them, though.”

“Your aunt was a smart woman.” Waverly narrows her eyes. “They’re real, you know. Mermaids. They’ve been talked about for centuries. They exist in most cultures. There are recordings of them as early as Mesopotamia. The story goes that a goddess named Atargatis loved a mortal man, but she accidentally killed him. Out of shame, she transformed herself into a fish but she was so beautiful that the water could not keep her only a fish. In early tellings, she had only a human head and arm.” She takes a deep breath, her cheeks flushed. “I mean. That’s just the story.”

Nicole tips her head to one side and smiles. “I didn’t know that.”

“There’s an Arabic collection of Middle Eastern folk tales, called _One Thousand and One Nights_ that talks of humans who can live and breathe underwater,” Waverly continues. “The Norman chapel, that’s in the Durham Castle in Durham, England, has one of the earliest surviving depictions of a mermaid. It’s etched on a stone pillar. Christopher Columbus reported sightings of what he called mermaids off the coast of Hispaniola in 1493. Now, some argue that what he saw was really manatees, but-” She stops suddenly. “I’m sorry, this is probably boring.”

“No,” Nicole says quickly. “It’s really not. I always loved hearing the stories. It’s nice to hear about the history.”

Waverly takes a deep breath. “Did you know that in Blackbeard’s logs, he demanded his crew steer clear of waters he called ‘enchanted’? And that there was a reported sighting in Victoria as late as 1967?”

Nicole smiles around the mouth of her beer. “That’s not so long ago.”

“They’ve been around forever, though,” Waverly continues. “And they exist in Eastern and Western Europe. They call them melusine in Western Europe and rusalkas in Eastern Europe. Though, rusalkas are more siren-like than mermaids. Still, Chinese culture talk of merfolk and shark people.”

“So you’re telling me they’re real, then.”

Waverly’s mouth drops open. “Of course they are. I just told you.”

“You told me about folklore,” Nicole points out. “None of this is really historical information, right? It’s not in any history books.”

Waverly crosses her arms over her chest. “That doesn’t mean it isn’t true.”

“And that doesn’t mean it is,” Nicole says. She takes another sip of her beer. “But if it helps, I believe you. It. I believe some of it.”

“It helps,” Waverly says quietly.

Nicole blinks. It’s gotten darker, quicker than she thought it would. She can see the lantern on the water cutting through the black. Waverly notices it too, trailing off and letting her beer drop to the tailgate as she looks at the horizon.

“Let me guess,” Nicole says with a small sigh. “You have to go.”

Waverly looks out across the horizon again. “I do. I’m so sorry.”

Nicole pushes off the tailgate and holds out her hand. “Don’t be. This… this was nice.”

Waverly takes her hand, her skin cool from the beer she was holding. Nicole feels something spark along the lines of her palm and she breathes in sharply.

“Sorry,” Waverly says quickly. She hops off the tailgate and pulls her hand back against her side. “For-for talking your ear off and stopping you from wherever you were going.”

“No,” Nicole says quickly. “You didn’t. I really liked talking to you.”

Waverly smiles softly. “I really liked talking to you, too.”

Nicole catches the light on the water out of the corner of her eye and she turns to look out across the surface. It spins and spins and her hand burns brightly where Waverly’s fingers were. She pushes it into her pocket, squeezing it into a fist and putting on a smile. That feeling is back in her chest, the one that says she knows Waverly from some other time. It aches at the idea of Waverly leaving. Again.

“You’ll come back, though, right?” She clears her throat.

Waverly smiles. “If you want me to.”

“I do.” Nicole winces a little. “If you want to.”

“I really liked talking to you,” Waverly repeats. Her hand drifts in the space between them for a moment, fluttering in Nicole’s direction. The light keeps spinning. “But I really do have to go. I’m sorry.”

Nicole takes a step back, leaning against the tailgate. “I get it.”

Waverly takes small steps back towards the path that leads to the inlet, smiling. “I’ll come back. Soon.”

“Okay.”

“I’ll tell you about the selkies, next.”

Nicole smiles. “Okay.”

“I’m going now.”

“Okay.”

Waverly stops and smiles wider. “I’ll see you soon, lighthouse keeper,” she says, slipping into the darkness.

Nicole listens for the sound of the rocks sliding around each other. There’s quiet for a minute before she hears the sound of water lapping against something, ebbing and flowing as Waverly wades into it. She takes a deep breath, letting the cool air fill her lungs. She can hear the bugs and see the fizzle of the fireflies against the dark. The lantern spins around on the water’s surface and she follows its path, looking for Waverly’s boat

It doesn’t matter if she can’t see it. She knows it’ll come back. 


	5. a rock ledge runs far into the sea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Who are you, Waverly Earp,” she asks herself. “And where do you go?”

She checks every night for the next few days, listening carefully as the sun starts to set to see if she can hear a boat against the rocks or feet against the shore. It’s quiet. There’s no one at the shoreline except for her. No dinghy’s in the water except for the one she lets Jeremy borrow so he can collect water samples near an outcropping of rocks a half a mile down the shore. She sits out on the tailgate with a warm beer in her hand and watches the black water go in and out, her lantern drifting in circles across the waves.

She’s been watching for mermaids since Waverly left, but she hasn’t seen one yet.

“Goodnight,” she calls to Doc as he turns his truck on and pulls away from the lighthouse, pointing his truck towards town. He waves out the window at her as the loose gravel kicks up around the tires.

Nicole leans against the lighthouse foundation, nails slipping into a crack she’ll patch tomorrow. Some quick cement should do it for now. She’ll have to seriously consider a new foundation in the next few years. Her aunt wasn’t sure when it had been done the last time.  _ My grandfather, maybe? _ Her aunt had shrugged.  _ His father? _ Nicole pushes off the rock and runs her hand through her hair. She’ll go up, grab a shower, check on the light, and then pull out her aunt’s old copy of  _ Billy Budd _ . It’s been years since she’s read it and something about it is picking at her lately. A voice in her head that sounds like her aunt telling her to back to the bookshelf and go through the book she had read Nicole as a child. 

She hears their voices before she sees them. Like lights floating in the sky, they drift up into the air and settle around Nicole.

_ Waverly _ .

She runs her hands down her front and frowns. She’s in the boots from last summer and they’re covered in mulch and salt-stained at the toes. Her old Gros Morne National Park t-shirt is threadbare in the sleeve. She wipes hurriedly at some brown patch on her shorts that might be dirt or coffee and curses under her breath.

“Oh. You.”

Nicole looks up and frowns. “Willa.”

Willa looks between her and Nicole’s old truck. “Do you, like, live here?”

“She does,” Waverly says over Willa’s shoulder. She smiles brightly at Nicole before meeting Willa’s eyes and shrinking down a little. “She’s the lighthouse keeper.”

“Hi,” Nicole breathes.

Willa looks back over her shoulder at Waverly for a long moment before she huffs and crosses her arms over her chest. “And here I thought you were just a stalker.”

Nicole puffs out her chest a little bit. “I’m the lighthouse keeper.”

Willa stares at her. “She  _ just _ said that.”

“Right.” Nicole wets her lips. “Yeah. I was just, you know. Repeating it.”

Willa rolls her eyes and pushes her hair out of her face. Nicole watches the wet strands stick to her neck for a minute before the settle back over her shoulders. Willa snaps her fingers, catching Nicole’s attention.

“Sorry,” Nicole says quickly. “I was, uh.” She looks at Waverly as she ties her hair back. “You know you can row into the dock, right? It’s closer to Shorty’s and you wouldn’t get…” She waves her hand at the two of them. “Wet.”

“We’re fine,” Willa says sharply. “And anyway, why do you care?”

“I don’t,” Nicole says slowly. She looks past Willa again at Waverly. “Is that where you’re going? Shorty’s?”

Willa moves and Waverly disappears behind her. “Not that it’s any of your business, but yes.” She pauses. “To see  _ Champ _ .”

Nicole swallows back the  _ no _ that threatens to get past her lips. “I think he’s out on the circuit this weekend.”

He’d been talking in town talking about it all week. The Ponoka Stampede. He’d competed in it once, years ago. He hasn’t been back since he blew out his knee on the local circuit a couple of months after that. But this year, he said, he came into some money and the rodeo world deserved to see Champ Hardy once again. Nicole had nearly choked on her coffee and Chrissy had to wash some of it out of her shirt before she went to work.

Willa narrows her eyes and purses her lips. “He didn’t say that.”

Nicole shrugs. “Maybe he forgot to call.” She shifts her weight and Waverly swings back into view. “You could still go anyway, you know. I can buy you a beer,” she says, looking only at Waverly.

Willa moves in front of Waverly again. “No. We didn’t come out here to see you.”

“Willa,” Waverly starts.

“No,” Willa says interrupts. “We came to see Champ. And if he’s not here, we’re going home.”

“But Willa, we swam all the way out-”

“ _ Waverly _ ,” Willa says sharply, turning on Waverly. “We’re taking  _ the boat _ back home.  _ Now _ .”

Nicole takes a step forward. “You can stay,” she says to Waverly.

Willa grabs Waverly’s arm and tugs her back towards the inlet. “We’re going, Waverly.”

“But, Willa, I-”

“ _ Now _ ,” Willa says again. She steps closer to Waverly, their toes brushing, Waverly’s arm stuck between them. “Don’t make me tell Daddy about this,” she says, her voice low.

Nicole hears it anyway. The threat. It makes the hair on the back of her neck stand up a little and she clenches her hands into fists. She wants to move closer and get in between them. She wants to take Waverly upstairs for some tea and show her the map on the wall again. She could read her the last letter Shae sent her from the Barents Sea. Shae talked about the water and the fish and the lighthouses on the shore. Waverly might like that. 

“Fine,” Waverly says quietly. She looks at Nicole sadly. “Maybe next time we can-”

“There won’t  _ be _ a next time,” Willa says firmly. “This is what Daddy was talking about. This is why you can’t come here on your own. You have a responsibility, Waverly. And it’s not to spend time with this… this  _ woman _ .”

“Hey,” Nicole says, taking a step forward.

Willa scoffs. “Oh, please. You’re just another human. There’s nothing special about you.” She tugs at Waverly’s arm again. “Let’s  _ go _ , Waverly.”

Waverly lets Willa pull her a few steps, looking back at Nicole as she stumbles across the loose gravel. 

“Waverly,” Nicole tries. 

Willa keeps moving, tugging Waverly into the darkness. The small light above the lighthouse door fades and Nicole is left standing under its glow, alone.

-

Shae sighs and drops her brown paper bag on the rickety table outside the school, sitting a little too close to Nicole in the late spring heat. “What is it with Stephanie Jones?”

Rosita looks up from where she’s pushing around greasy sloppy joe meat on her lunch tray. “She’s hot.”

Nicole chokes on her chocolate milk. “Stephanie Jones?”

“Oh, come on,” Rosita says. She winks at Nicole. “You know it. I know it.” She snorts softly. “Everyone knows it.”

Nicole looks across the small grassy space everyone eats lunch in, finding Stephanie Jones sitting in the middle of her friends. Samantha Baker is next to her, a finger climbing up Pete York’s chest. She makes a face into her chocolate milk, feeling Shae’s hand on her leg under the table. Chrissy sits down across the table from her, kicking out and catching Nicole’s foot. She sticks her tongue out and smiles when Nicole grunts in pain.

A shadow crosses over them and Nicole blinks up at it.

“I heard you were talking about me,” Champ says, resting on hand on the table. 

Chrissy looks up at him and makes a face, moving her lunch away from him. Rosita rolls her eyes and goes back to picking tomatoes out of the salad she brought from home. Shae leans a little harder into Nicole’s side. Nicole continues to stare up at him for a minute, waiting to see if he’s joking or not.

“Hey, Shae,” he says, looking past the rest of them. “What’s up?”

Shae pauses. “Are you talking to me?”

Champ grins crookedly. “I know, right? It must be your lucky day.”

Rosita gags.

Champ glares at her for a moment before he turns back to Shae. “Listen, I came over to see if you wanted to come sit with us. You know, with the  _ cool _ kids.”

“Me?” Shae asks again, pointing a finger at herself.

Something like frustration flickers across Champ’s face. “Yeah. So, what do you say?”

“Uh.” Shae looks at Nicole, frowning. “I’m good. Thanks.” 

Champ sighs heavily. “Come on, Shae. You know you want to.” He winks at her. “I’ll even let you sit next to me, if I’m feeling generous.”

“No,” Shae repeats. She squeezes Nicole’s leg gently. “I’m fine right here.”

“You really want to hang out with these guys?” Champ points at Rosita. “She’ll put out for anyone.”

“Not for you,” Rosita says loudly.

Champ’s ears go red at the tip. “Not that I’d  _ let _ you.” He shifts a little, looking at Chrissy. He opens his mouth but pauses, shaking his head. “She’s whatever,” he says, the words flimsy. “And Nicole.” He barks out a laugh. “She still believes in  _ mermaids _ .”

There’s a quick burst of shame in the pit of her stomach but she swallows it back. She doesn’t. Not really. Not anymore. At least, that’s what she told her aunt a couple of years ago. But Chrissy and Shae and Perry know that she sort of kind of still does. No one else knows, though. There’s just some things that follow you from elementary school, through middle school, and into high school. Like a bad nickname. Like  _ Champ _ .

Champ heaves another sigh. “Okay, fine. Since you’re playing hard to get, I guess I’m not going to do you a favor and ask you on a date.”

Shae coughs in surprise.

“Seriously?” Nicole breathes. She sits up a little straighter. “You know she’s dating someone. You know she’s dating  _ me _ .”

Champ barely looks at her. “Come on, Shae. Just think about the fun we could have. I’ll take you down to the rodeo. Give you a break from all this seawater.” He leans forward, pushing his hair out of his face. “I’ll make it worth your while.”

Nicole stands up, her sandwich falling from her hands. “Okay, you know what?”

Shae reaches for her, her fingers tight on Nicole’s wrist. “Champ,” she says slowly, stretching towards him.

Champ smirks. “Yes?”

“Not even if you were the last guy on earth and my life depended on it.” Shae sits back down, pulling Nicole with her. She smooths her hand down Nicole’s arm until their hands meet, their fingers lacing together. She turns away from Champ, going back to her apple as she motions for Chrissy to keep talking.

Champ blinks once, then twice, and pulls back. He stares at Shae for a long moment before he finally looks at Nicole.

Nicole glares at him, her whole body tight with tension that starts in her shoulders and bleeds into her toes. He frowns and stands tall, something like embarrassment crossing his face before it’s gone quickly.

“Fine,” he says weakly. “Whatever. As if I really wanted to go out with you anyway. You and your loser friends are… losers.”

Nicole snorts. “Wow. Good one.”

Champ turns on her, eyes narrowed. “You wait, Haught. Just wait.”

Nicole rolls her eyes and picks up her fallen sandwich, taking a big bite out of it. She chews and swallows before she opens her mouth again. The fire in her belly is just simmering now, making her confident just enough to tell him to get lost and don’t come back from one of his precious rodeos. He turns sharply on his heel before she can say anything, pushing Jeremy out of his way as he storms past him towards his friends.

Shae laughs a little and leans in, her forehead against Nicole’s shoulder. “Did he really just do that?”

Rosita spears a piece of lettuce on the end of her fork. “He really did.”

Chrissy picks up Nicole’s chocolate milk and takes a long sip of it. “I mean, you have to give him a little bit of credit for asking a girl out in front of her girlfriend.”

“No, you don’t.” Nicole takes her chocolate milk back, glaring at Chrissy. She looks back over her shoulder at Champ’s table. He’s staring back at her, her mouth twisted in a scowl.

“Did you hear me?” Shae asks, squeezing her hand.

Nicole shakes her head, looking away from Champ. “No, sorry. What did you say?”

She glances back at him one more time and he’s still glaring at her. She shakes it off and tells herself he doesn’t matter.

-

“Hey,” someone says from behind her.

Nicole turns, the beer in her bottle sloshing gently as she searches in the dark for a face.  _ Waverly. _

Waverly moves into the single stream of light coming from the street lamp hanging over the side of Shorty’s. Nicole watches her come closer, lingering back a few feet.

“Hey,” she breathes.

Waverly smiles. “I wasn’t sure you were going to be here tonight.”

Nicole is glad she is. “I got Doc to spend a few hours at the lighthouse. I came out with my friends.”

“Oh,” Waverly says. “I’m sorry. I’ll let you get-”

“No, no,” Nicole interrupts. “I was coming outside to get some air. It was getting stuffy in there.”

Waverly smiles a little. “I bet you’re used to all that open air, being at the lighthouse all day.”

Nicole smiles back. “It’s definitely better than being stuck inside with the smell of dead fish.” Her nose wrinkles. “I love fishing as much as the next person, but when these guys come straight off the boats without a shower, you start to like it just a little less.” She takes a sip of her beer, choosing her words carefully. “You here with your sister?”

Waverly’s smile flickers. “She thinks I’m in the bathroom.”

She takes another sip of her beer, just to do something. “I saw Champ, earlier.”

“Yeah.” Waverly toes the dirt. “We came out to meet him.”

“What do you see in him?” Nicole asks before she can stop herself. She tightens her hand around her bottle, breathing in through her nose. “I mean, he’s kind of…”

“He can be nice,” Waverly says carefully. “When he wants to be.”

Nicole snorts. “Once every ten years, then.”

Waverly seems to take a deep breath. “My sister likes him.”

“Is she the one going on dates with him?” Nicole takes a small step closer.

“Well, no,” Waverly says slowly. “I guess I am.”

Nicole moves closer again. “Do  _ you _ like him?”

The side door bangs open and Nicole grabs Waverly’s hand, pulling her out of the light and against the side of the building.

“Waverly.” Willa’s voice is sharp in the darkness. “Where are you?”

Nicole turns her head and meets Waverly’s eyes. Her palm is warm where it rests against Waverly’s, their fingers slipping together for just a moment.

Willa sighs heavily. “She’s not out here.”

“I told you, she’s probably in the bathroom,” 

Willa narrows her eyes, peering into the dark. “I already checked the bathroom. Twice. She’s  _ probably _ with that redhead.”

Champ snorts. “Nicole? Yeah, right. What would Waverly want with her?”

“I don’t know,” Willa mutters. “But that girl is trouble. I can tell.”

Nicole watches Champ sling an arm over Willa’s shoulders. They tense, but Champ doesn’t seem to notice. “She’s a pain in the ass. A weirdo. But she’s harmless, you know? It’s not like she’s going to steal Waverly away, or anything.”

“She better not,” Willa says sharply. “We have a deal, Champ.”

“I know, I know,” Champ says lazily. “Don’t worry about that loser, though. That’s all I’m saying. Like Waverly would even be interested in her. She’s a  _ lighthouse keeper _ .”

“And you’re a washed-up rodeo hand.” Willa shrugs Champ off. 

Nicole can see Champ’s eyes flash in the dark. “Don’t forget, I’m doing you a favor.”

Waverly’s hand flexes in Nicole’s. Nicole looks down and brushes her thumb across the back of Waverly’s hand. She loses what Willa says, too caught up in the way Waverly’s fingers move in hers.

The side door closes with a  _ thud _ and Waverly lets go.

“I should get back in there,” she says, slipping into the light.

Nicole pushes off the wall. “You don’t have to.”

Waverly shakes her head. “I should. Willa is going to keep looking for me. It’s only a matter of time before she finds me out here.” She smiles, her head tipped to one side and her hair over her shoulder. “I’ll try to come and see you again.”

“You still have to tell me about selkies,” Nicole reminds her. She takes a step forward.

Waverly takes a step back. “Selkies. Right. Or sirens. I know about both.”

“I can’t wait to hear about either,” Nicole says. She stops, her hand tightening around her empty bottle. “Goodnight, Waverly.”

She watches Waverly slip back into the building, the door closing gently behind her. Nicole breathes in deep, letting the salty air fill her lungs. She rolls the empty bottle between her hands, eyes closing as she thinks about Waverly’s hand in hers. The light above her sways as a breeze blows in. Nicole picks her phone out of her pocket and opens her messages, scrolling until she finds Chrissy’s thread. She types out  _ gotta run. see you tomorrow. breakfast? _ and puts it away. The bottle rattles against the empty recycle container on the side of the building when she drops it in.

_ I’ll try to come and see you again _ , Waverly had said.

Nicole smiles, chin tipped up towards the stars as she walks to her truck. The sound of some country song that sounds like every other country song filters out through Shorty’s swinging door. She knows Waverly is in here, with Champ. But she thinks about what Waverly said and the way her hand felt in Nicole’s and she doesn’t care.

She drives home with the windows down and the salt on her lips.

-

It’s another week before she sees Waverly again. 

She gets another letter from Shae about a girl on the shore who doesn’t mind when Shae comes stumbling in off a boat smelling like cod. She starts a letter and tries to write about Waverly but her pen hovers over the page and she can’t find the right words to explain why Waverly is so intriguing; what it is about her that keeps pulling Nicole into her orbit.

She mans the lighthouse one night and pulls a wayward boat into shore, lighting up the water as the Coast Guard hooks them up and reels them in. She sits on the gallery deck with her feet hanging off the edge and watches the black water roil, protesting against the sides of the boats. It’s the first rescue they’ve had in a while. She hears about it the next morning at the counter of Constant Cravings when she goes in to pick up a coffee. Some novice fishermen out of St. John’s who got turned around.

“I’m telling you,” Cecil Wright Jr. says. “They were talking crazy when they got to shore. Going on about sirens calling them through the water.

Mr. Hardy scoffs into his coffee cup. “Sirens. They need their hearing checked.”

Cecil shrugs a shoulder and shovels another piece of pancake into his mouth. “I’m just telling you what they said, James.”

Nicole slides a few coins into the tip jar on the counter and slips out of the diner. 

It’s a week before she sees someone crest the rocky path to the lighthouse. Doc is working around the front of the lighthouse, filling a crack in the foundation. She’s taking a break, finishing her bottle of water in the hot sun when she sees her. She’s pushing off the bed of the truck before she thinks too hard about it, her lunch forgotten as she moves closer, meeting Waverly halfway.

“You’re back,” she breathes.

Waverly tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “I said I would be.”

Nicole smiles. “I just didn’t expect you in the daytime.”

Waverly looks up at the midday sun. She squints a little. “Huh. I guess we do always come by at night.”

Nicole’s heart sinks a little. “Oh. Willa is here?”

“Oh.” Waverly looks back over her shoulder. “No, actually. My sister-”

“God _ dammit _ , Waverly,” someone says loudly. A woman comes up over the ledge, pushing back her wet hair. “You didn’t tell me there’d be so many rocks.”

“My sister, Wynonna,” Waverly finishes.

Nicole looks her up and down. Her hair is dark, darker than Waverly’s and Willa’s. A turquoise stone hangs from her neck. She pulls at her t-shirt. It has a picture of a taco on it, “Insert Here” with an arrow pointing up towards Wynonna’s face. 

“Who the hell are you?” Wynonna asks.

“Wynonna,” Waverly scolds. “This is Nicole.”

Wynonna’s eyes flash with recognition. She smiles slowly. “So  _ you’re _ the one Willa hates.”

Nicole rubs at the back of her neck. “I wouldn’t say she  _ hates _ me, she just…” She smiles a little. “Okay, yeah. I think she hates me.”

“She doesn’t,” Waverly says lightly. “She just really dislikes you.”

“I don’t know why,” Nicole admits. It’s something she’s been wondering about, honestly.

Wynonna slings an arm across Waverly’s shoulders. “Well, baby girl is here to see Champ and  _ someone  _ keeps getting in Willa’s way.”

Waverly elbows Wynonna and Wynonna’s arm falls off her shoulder.

“Ouch, Waves.” She rubs at her side. “Have you registered those things as weapons?”

Nicole smiles. Waverly looks lighter, somehow. She rocks into Wynonna and she smiles and she rolls her eyes, but Nicole can see it. The love. The affection. It’s so different from the way she is with Willa. She’s there and she’s happy and something bubbles quietly in Nicole’s chest.

But then it fades away as she remembers why Waverly comes to Purgatory. Champ.

“Champ should be working today,” Nicole says. He doesn’t go out on the boats but he works down at the dock hauling in catches and cleaning down the hulls. He complains about it to anyone who will listen.  _ I was made for more than this _ , he’ll say.

“Oh,” Waverly says. “I’m actually not-“

“We’re not here to see him,” Wynonna interrupts. “We’re here to see you.”

That bubbling feeling comes back. “Oh, yeah?” she asks, trying for something cool.

“Wynonna,” Waverly mutters. She goes to elbow Wynonna again, but she jumps out of Waverly’s way. “I told you I’d tell you about the sirens, didn’t I?” she says to Nicole.

“The sirens. Right.” Nicole rubs at the back of her neck. “That’d be, uh, great. That’d be great.”

“Great,” Waverly breathes.

Wynonna looks between the two of them. “Great,” she echoes as she claps her hands together. “Now that we’ve said that a million times, can someone point me in the direction of the nearest bar? I didn’t swim all this way just to watch the two of you stare at each other.”

Waverly looks sharply at Wynonna.

The tips of Nicole’s ears start to burn. “You really should start docking that boat down with everyone else’s,” she says, trying to cover the red flush she knows is blooming across her face. “Shorty’s is that way.” She hooks her thumb back over her shoulder towards the road that leads back to Main Street. “Big sign on the place. You can’t miss the saloon doors.”

Wynonna grins. “Perfect.” She pulls Waverly into her side, kissing the top of her head. “Now remember, baby girl. One hour. Then we have to get back before Daddy knows we’re missing.” She winks at Nicole. “We wouldn’t want that, would we?”

Something like fear passes over Waverly’s face. “One hour,” she repeats. 

“I believe I have finished, Nicole,” Doc says as he rounds the back of the truck, clapping his hands together. Plaster sprinkles the ground. His hat is pushed back on his head, his tank top sweaty.

Wynonna looks him up and down and pops out her hip. “Well, well. Who do we have here?”

Doc smoothes down his mustache. “Doc Holliday, ma’am. And you are?”

Wynonna licks her lips. “Wynonna. Wynonna Earp.”

Doc takes off his hand and holds it to his chest. “Well, Ms. Earp. It’s nice to make your acquaintance.”

_ Waverly Earp _ , Nicole thinks.

“I was just headed to your finest drinking establishment.” Wynonna looks Doc up and down again. “Care to join me?”

Doc glances at Nicole. “I’m afraid I am otherwise occupied, Ms. Earp.”

“Go,” Nicole says loudly. She winces when they all turn to look at her. “I mean, you should go. The plaster has to dry, right? And-and it’s hot. Hotter than hot. Look at you. You’re melting.”

“I am quite hot,” Doc says slowly. “A refreshment might be nice.”

Wynonna slips past Nicole, hooking her arm around Doc’s. “That’s settled, then. The boss lady says go, you might as well show me the sights of…” She pauses and looks back at Nicole. “What is this place again? Purgatory?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Doc answers. He puts his hat back on his head, tipping it back. “By all mean. If you don’t need me, Nicole, I believe I’ll take my leave.”

“Go,” Nicole says again, the words weak. She can feel Waverly’s eyes on her. “We can finish tomorrow after it’s dried.”

Doc nods at her and turns Wynonna around, pointing at his pink 1977 Camaro parked just behind Nicole’s truck. Nicole watches them go, disappearing around the lighthouse, before she turns back to Waverly.

“Hi,” she breathes.

Waverly smiles softly. “Hey.”

“You’re here.”

“I am.” Waverly’s smile widens a little. “I told you I was coming back.”

Nicole tucks her hair behind her ear, scratching at her neck. “It’s been a while.”  _ A week _ , she thinks. “And I thought you’d come back with Willa.”

Waverly’s smile flickers. “She’s busy with Daddy today.”

“That’s good,” Nicole says under her breath.

Waverly hears her. “Is it?”

“She doesn’t like me,” Nicole reminds her. “In fact, she hates me.” She looks past Waverly to the sea. She wonders where they docked their boat. They must be tying it up to some rocks. Or maybe they have an anchor they drop. She’s not sure how she keeps missing them rowing to shore. The path from St. Johns to the lighthouse cuts through open water.

“She doesn’t  _ hate _ you,” Waverly insists. She falters at the look on Nicole’s face. “Okay, maybe she does.”

“Do you want to come upstairs?” Nicole asks suddenly. Waverly blinks at her. “I mean, do you want to come up and sit on the gallery deck? You can see almost all of Purgatory from there. And the sea just kind of, you know. Stretches.”

“I’d love that,” Waverly says quickly, her whole body pitching forward. She rocks back a little. “I’ve always wanted to go up and see the lantern. I see the lights all the time and I know what they look like on the water. But I bet the lantern is huge and-” She stops, biting on her lip. “I’d love that,” she repeats.

Nicole smiles. “Then come on.” She lets Waverly go up first, slipping ahead of her when they get to the living quarters and leading the way up through the service room and to the lantern room.

“Wow,” Waverly breathes. The lantern is spinning, glancing off the glass windows and throwing something bright across Waverly’s face. “It’s so much bigger than I thought it would be.” She looks at Nicole. “I mean, I knew it was going to be big, just not… not this big.”

Nicole watches it go around and around. “When I first saw it, I didn’t know something could be that big. My aunt, she used to tell me that it had to be that big because it stretched so far away. How would anyone see some small nightlight in the dark?”

“I can see it,” Waverly says absently. She runs a finger along the rail surrounding the lantern. “When I’m out there and I look up I can-” She stops, looking back at Nicole. “People can see it for miles.”

Nicole opens the small glass door that leads to the gallery deck. “After you.”

Waverly slips past her, their hands brushing as she steps out onto the wooden planks, sliding to the side so Nicole can come out after her. Nicole sits, watching Waverly grip the railing tightly as she leans forward into the wind. Her hair trails behind her, long wet strands in the air. They tickle Nicole’s arm and Nicole doesn’t shift away from it. Waverly turns to smile at her, eyes bright.

“I  _ love _ it up here,” she says. She turns back to the sea. “How do you not spend every day up here?”

Nicole smiles back. “I spend a lot of time up here,” she admits. “Did you know you can see where you live from here?”

Waverly looks at her, confused. “You… You can’t see where I live from here. Can you?”

Nicole nods and points south. “St. Johns is that way.” She frowns. “That’s where you’re from, isn’t it?”

“Oh.” Waverly puts on a smile but it flickers. “Right. St. Johns.” She nods sharply. “Just that way.”

“I thought so.” Nicole hooks her chin over the lower rail, her forehead against the top one. “I still don’t know why you come all the way out here when there’s a whole world in St. Johns.”

Waverly is quiet for a long moment, just the wind whistling around them. “My world isn’t as big as you think it is,” she says just loud enough for Nicole hear. “Besides.” She looks back and smiles a little more sure. “The company isn’t all that bad.”

Nicole snorts. “Champ is the perfect host, I’m sure.”

Waverly watches her carefully. “I meant you.”

Nicole looks up. “Oh.”

Waverly rolls her eyes and sits down slowly, her arms resting over the edge of the lower rail. She lets out a long breath. “Champ is…”

“I can finish that sentence a hundred ways,” Nicole says. “And none of them would be flattering.”

“Ambitious,” Waverly finally decides. 

Nicole tips her head. “I guess you could say that.” She rubs at the back of her neck. “Is that what you see in him? Ambition?”

The wind blows a little harder. Nicole can hear the mechanical whir of the lantern in its place. She watches Waverly think it over, open her mouth, and close it again. “He can be kind,” she finally says. “I’ve seen it  in him.”

There’re a thousand things Nicole wants to say. She wants to tell Waverly bout the time Champ pushed her down at recess or the way he asked her girlfriend out right in front of her or the way he made fun of her for believing in mermaids and sirens and selkies. But she just looks back over the water and lets her hand rest on the worn boards between their bodies. 

She watches the sea roll in and out. She can see the dock from here. The boats bump back and forth. One of them is loading up. She’s sure Perry will be gone tomorrow for another week. She tries to see things the way Waverly might be seeing them. Her first time on the gallery deck made her feel like she was up in the clouds and everyone was ants below. She had tried to pick people out that she knew but it had all felt so far away. 

Waverly’s hand falls over hers.

Nicole looks down at it and then up at Waverly.

“Did you want to hear about sirens?” Waverly asks, eyes still turned to the water. “I could tell you about them.”

“Okay,” Nicole says after a minute.

Waverly’s hand stays where it is. “Greek mythology paints them as dangerous creatures. That they lure sailors to their deaths by drawing them in with their voices.” She looks at Nicole quickly, her eyes dropping to their hands. “But some myths argue that they’re kind creatures. Ones who lead sailors to shore, instead of away from it.”

“I’ve never heard that one.” Nicole turns her hand over, their palms sliding together.

“Then you’ve never heard that there are different kinds of sirens?” Waverly’s eyes start to sparkle. “Three of them, actually. Zeus rules the first kind, celestial sirens. Those sirens lead the ones who follow them to a divine host.”

“Posiden rules one of them,” Nicole guesses.

Waverly smiles. “The generative sirens. They echo the sea, creating life again and again.” Her fingers move against Nicole’s. “And there there’s Hades. He rules the purificatory sirens. They lead their victims to eternal life below. That’s where most of the myths come from.” She looks at Nicole. “There was a story of a siren called the Siren of Canosa. She was rumored to accompany sailors on their after-life journey.”

“So, leading them to their death, but not killing them,” Nicole says. She makes a noise in her throat. “You always hear about sirens being evil.”

Waverly makes a face. “Sirens are vastly underrated.”

Nicole laughs. “Do you know a lot of sirens, then?”

Waverly smiles widely. “I know someone who swore they knew a siren, once. He claimed that she was one of the first sirens. One of the two sirens in Homer’s  _ Odyssey _ . But did you know that some claim that there were seven original sirens?  Aglaopheme, Leucosia, Ligeia, Molpe, Parthenope ,  Peisinoe, and Thelxiepeia. No one knows the exact source of the names, but they’re the most widely recognized.” She sighs.  “The poet John Tzetzes names the most of them.”

Nicole looks across the water. She wonders if there are sirens out there right now, luring sailors in. Giving them refuge or leading them into Hades’ underworld. She thinks of her aunt’s stories about them and wonders if she knew the things Waverly knows.

“Some cultures see them as mermaids,” Waverly continues. “The French word for mermaids is  _ sirène. _ ”

“How do you know all of this stuff?”

Waverly’s cheeks flush and she looks away. “I just really like history. And researching. I don’t get to do a lot of it back home. My Daddy doesn’t really like this kind of stuff and he doesn’t approve of it. He says-” She stops herself, frowning. “It’s just fascinating, isn’t it? Even if you don’t believe it.”

“Hey,” Nicole says softly. “I believe it.”

“You told me you didn’t,” Waverly reminds her. “When I told you about the mermaids.”

Nicole bites down on her bottom lip. “I mean, I didn’t. I don’t,” she admits. “But the way you talk about it, it reminds me of my aunt. And she believed. Until the very last moment of her life. She believed that mermaids and sirens and selkies were out there, in the water. That there were whole worlds out there we could never understand.”

“And you don’t,” Waverly finishes.

“I used to. I want to.”

Waverly’s fingers slip through Nicole’s. “Then you should.”

Nicole snorts. “It’s as easy as that, huh?”

“Easier.” She looks up at Nicole, eyes bright. “You just have to feel it here,” she says, pressing two fingers to Nicole’s chest, just over her heart. “This is always louder than that.” She touches Nicole’s temple. 

Nicole blinks slowly, eyes dropping to Waverly’s mouth for a moment before something starts honking loudly.  Doc’s Camaro sends up a dust cloud as it comes to a stop behind Nicole’s truck. They lean over the rail, watching as Doc slides out of the front seat, Wynonna right behind him. Waverly sighs. 

“Waverly!” Wynonna shouts, a hand over her eyes. “The sun!”

Nicole looks up at the sky. The sun is slowly coming down along the horizon, its light stretching out across the water. She can see the lantern on the water a little more clearly now. She hadn’t realized the sun had started to set around them. 

Waverly jumps a little, her hand still in Nicole’s. “Oh, no. We’re supposed to be home before the sun goes down.”

“It hasn’t gone down yet.” Nicole holds Waverly’s hand a little tighter, trying to keep Waverly next to her. She doesn’t want Waverly to go. Not when she’s this close. Not when they’ve been holding onto each other talking about the sea with the wind in their hair and the lighthouse holding them up. But Waverly shifts away a little and Nicole knows she has to go. She sighs softly. “I want to hear about the selkies, next time.” 

Waverly laughs just under her breath. “Selkies aren’t all that interesting, you know.” She looks back down at Wynonna standing below them. “They’re just seals.”

Something sparks in Nicole’s chest and bubbles up to her mouth. “They’re not just seals. They’re… they’re something else. I think they might be my favorite.” Her hand jumps in Waverly’s. “My aunt always said they were special. That her grandfather’s first love was a selkie, and he never really got over her.”

“Did she give him her pelt,” Waverly asks softly. “Because a selkie only truly loves someone if they gift them with a pelt.”

“Sometimes we love something enough to give back what we’ve been given.” Nicole smiles at Waverly. “My aunt used to tell me that.” She pauses. “And didn’t you just tell me to think with my heart.”

Waverly blinks at her, a slow smile stretching across her face.

“Waverly!” Wynonna shouts again. “Let’s go!”

Waverly flinches a little. “I better go before Daddy sends Willa to come and get us.”

Nicole looks down over the rails, searching for a boat or a dinghy. “I can drive you,” she offers. “It’ll be faster than going on the water. I just have to gas up the truck and-”

“No, no.” Waverly stands, her hand slipping out of Nicole’s as she holds onto the rail. Nicole stands up after her. “It’s okay. Really.” She reaches out, her hand flutter between them for a moment before she pushes her hair back out of her eyes. “Just stay here, okay? And-and I’ll come back.”

“To tell me about the selkies.”

“To tell you about the selkies,” Waverly repeats. She takes a careful step backward. She looks over her shoulder and takes another step, moving back into the lantern room. “Soon. I promise.”

Nicole takes a step forward. “Tomorrow?”

Waverly shakes her head, a smile on her face. “Not tomorrow. Soon.” She moves around the lantern.

Nicole follows her. “Without Willa.”

Waverly’s smile flickers. “I don’t know.” She reaches the door of the lantern room, her hand tight around the handle. “But I’ll try.”

The lantern spins around, lighting up Waverly’s face. Nicole takes a deep breath, letting it fill her lungs. She wants to tell Waverly to stay and tell her about the selkies. She wants to listen to Waverly talk for hours, about anything she wants to talk about. She wants to follow Waverly on the water and see where she lives and beg her to come back to Purgatory for just a little while.  _ Or forever _ , she thinks.

She barely knows Waverly. But there’s something about her, something Nicole can’t let go of. Something she doesn’t want to put down.

“I’ll try,” Waverly breathes again before she slips out of the lantern room. 

Nicole can almost hear her feet on the metal stairs as she goes down. Nicole blinks a few times before she shakes her head and goes after her, taking the steps two at a time. She comes out of the lighthouse just as Doc turns to face it, his hat on his head but his hair tangled under it.

“I’m afraid they left rather quickly,” he explains. 

Nicole’s shoulders slump. She listens for the sound of a boat but hears nothing. The water is slow and steady. Nothing with an engine cut through the water. She frowns. St. Johns is such a long way to row and it’s getting dark fast. She runs a hand through her hair and sighs. 

“That Wynonna can hold her whiskey,” Doc says from behind her. “She is some kind of woman. Crass, certainly.”

Nicole snorts softly. “Did she make you blush, John Henry?”

“On more than one occasion,” he admits. He leans back against the bed of Nicole’s truck. “That sister of hers is arresting.”

“I didn’t notice,” Nicole says lightly, eyes still searching the horizon. She sees something in the distance, a dark shape that crest from the water and disappears just as quickly.

“Of course,” Doc says kindly. He clears his throat and Nicole looks back at him. “I believe we can finish this project tomorrow, can’t we?”

Nicole smiles at him. “Of course. Thanks so much for your help, Doc. I couldn’t do this without you.”

“Oh, I assure you that you could.” He tips his hat at her. “Ms. Haught.”

Nicole gives him a short curtsey, grinning at him. “Mr. Holliday.”

He disappears behind her truck and she listens as his Camaro starts up smooth. She turns back to the water, searching it again. She sees nothing this time. The water is getting blacker by the minute as the sun sets lower in the sky. The wind blows, just a little cooler than before.

“Who are you, Waverly Earp,” she asks herself. “And where do you go?”

-

Someone rings the old doorbell on the lighthouse the next morning and Nicole drops her coffee cup in the sink without finishing the last sip, sliding down the steps to the front door.  _ Waverly must have come back _ , she thinks. She stops suddenly, looking down at the shirt she wore to bed, a Purgatory High t-shirt she got years ago. She’s wearing her aunt’s old hat and a pair of sweatpants with a rip at the knee. She thinks about going back upstairs. Her jeans are hanging over the small drying rack in the kitchen and there’s a fresh t-shirt in the laundry basket that doesn’t have a weird stain on the sleeve. She settles for taking off the hair and running her hand through her hair before she puts it on again.

She pulls open the door and frowns.

A man in a three-piece suit stands in front of her, dabbing at his forehead with a white handkerchief.

“Hi,” she says after a minute. “Can I help you?”

He looks over her shoulder. “Hello. I’m looking for the lighthouse keeper.”

She puffs her chest out a little and straightens her shoulders. “That’s me.”

The man frowns slightly. “Oh. I assumed…” He shakes his head. “Nevermind that. I’m Judge Cryderman. I’m interested in buying your lighthouse.”

Nicole laughs. “I’m sorry, what?” 

Judge Cryderman continues to stare at her.

Her laugh dies off. “I’m sorry, what?” she repeats.

“I’m interested in buying your lighthouse,” he says again.

Nicole takes her hat off and runs her hand through her hair a second time. “Is this some kind of joke?”

“I don’t joke about buying property Ms….” He looks at her expectantly.

“Haught,” she says absently.

“Ms. Haught,” he finishes. “I am the proprietor of the Cape St. Francis Lighthouse and the Rose Blanche Lighthouse.” He hands her a business card from his pocket. She takes it slowly. “I am interested in making an offer on your lighthouse. Now, I’ve done my research and I’ve decided on a fair asking price for-”

“I’m sorry,” Nicole says again. “This… My lighthouse isn’t for sale. I’m not sure who told you it was.”

He waves her off. “Nonsense. Everything is for sale, for the right price.” He dabs at his forehead again and she wonders how he can be wearing that suit in this heat. “Now, as I was saying, I-”

“It’s not for sale,” she interrupts. “The lighthouse. I’m not looking to sell it.”

“But I’m looking to buy it.” He frowns at her. “Wouldn’t you like to hear my offer?”

Nicole shakes her head. “I’m sorry. It’s not for sale. I have no interest in hearing your-your offer.” She steps forward, pushing him back a step. “I’m sorry if you came a long distance, but you could have saved yourself the trip if you called ahead. This lighthouse has been in my family for generations and I’m not selling it.”

This is her  _ home _ . This is  _ her _ lighthouse. She is its keeper. It’s her birthright. No one else gets to have it.

Judge Cryderman puts his handkerchief back in his pocket, his mouth drawn into a tight smile. “I do hope you’ll reconsider. I am in a position to offer you a great financial reward.”

Nicole curls her hand around the business card she’s holding. She feels it crumple. “Thank you, but my answer is no. Have a safe drive back.” She closes the door on her, her chest rising and falling. She takes a deep breath and closes her eyes, willing her heart to slow down just a little bit. The corners of the card cut into her palm. 

Why would someone come here and offer to buy her lighthouse? Why would anyone think she could give this up? She laughs a little, shaky, and rolls her eyes. These people who come to the cost with their money and their fncy suits think they cn buy anything they want. Someone tried to buy Shorty’s years ago the same way. Rolled into town in a fancy car and offered Shorty cash, double what the bar was worth. Nicole laughs again, easier now.

It’s her lighthouse. 

She’ll never give it up.


	6. a lighthouse there, where lonely in the sea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She thinks about her aunt and the stories and she thinks of Waverly’s face until she sees spots in her eyes.
> 
> “A _selkie_ ,” she breathes.

Her aunt coughs softly and stretches out a hand, beckoning Nicole closer.

Nicole puts down her cup of tea, immediately missing its warmth. She moves to the couch, kneeling down. “You should be sleeping.”

“I’ll sleep when I’m dead,” her aunt jokes. It falls flat. She sighs. “Don’t be so serious, girl. It’ll turn you old.” She runs a finger down Nicole’s forehead and over her nose. “Now, there’s something I need to tell you.”

Nicole shakes her head. “You can tell me later.”

Her aunt coughs again, the sound wetter than before. “It’s important, Nicole. It’s about the selkies.”

“You don’t have to-”

“You need to listen,” her aunt interrupts. “I know. I know how hard it is for you to believe. I know you think it’s childish.”

“I don’t,” Nicole breathes. “It’s not childish. It’s just not… It can’t be real.” She thinks back to telling her aunt that she doesn’t believe. A part of her always held onto it, though. Some piece of her that wouldn’t let it go. She’s almost sure she saw something in the water, that day with Perry, Chrissy, and Shae. But, no. She still tells herself that it had to be a trick of the light. Or a small wave in a wave that just looked like something else. “They’re myths.”

“Myths are only the truth told over and over again.” Her aunt reaches for her hand, squeezing it gently. “I never told you this story. This one, I kept for myself. I’ve never told anyone, actually, but I’m going to tell you.”

Nicole moves a little closer now, her knees aching. “You don’t have to tell me,” she says again.

Her aunt shakes her head. “When I was younger than you are now,” she starts. “When your grandfather was the lighthouse keeper and your father had just moved away, I met a selkie. A woman. She swam to shore one night in the summer, right at the bottom of the lighthouse, where the rocks are.”

Nicole squeezes her aunt’s hand when she coughs.

“She had long hair. Longer than anyone I had ever met. And it was dark, with some sun streaks in it. The kind you get from being so close to the water all the time. She was beautiful. She looked like one of the girls who would be in a movie, or in a magazine. I had never met someone like that before. Not here in Purgatory. Not even when I was away at North Atlantic.” She looks past Nicole and smiles. “I didn’t know, at first, that she was a selkie. I thought she had just gone for a swim. People did that, sometimes. They docked their pontoons or their dinghies and they swam to shore. Why would I have thought anything else?”

Nicole smiles softly. “I never understand people like that.”

Her aunt looks back at her. “I watched her walk through town as if she had never seen one before. She was fascinated by the lighthouse. She must have stared up at it for hours. And then she was gone, back into the water.”

“Maybe she-”

“She came back,” her aunt says. “The next day. She came up from the shore and I remember, I was at the truck, emptying the mulch we bought. She watched me for a few minutes before she came closer. I think I knew. What she was. I think I knew before she even told me. There was something about her. Something I could never put my finger on when we first met. She came back nearly every day for two weeks. At first, she told me she was just visiting family. But she never made it past the lighthouse after that first day. She stayed near the water, with me while I worked.” She smiles again. “She was good company. She talked a lot. Almost as much I did.”

Nicole shifts, sitting on the floor. Her aunt’s hand is warm in hers.  _ Too warm _ , Nicole thinks.

Her aunt sighs softly. “She would tell me things about herself. Her husband, her children. Girls, she told me. She talked for hours about her girls. The middle one was trouble, she’d tell me. Always getting into something. Her oldest was her husband’s favorite, but her youngest…” Her aunt smiles. “The way she talked about her youngest. You could tell she loved her. You could tell how much she loved her.”

“But one night, when she said goodbye, I followed her to the water,” her aunt admits. “I watched her disappear around the rocks and I thought I lost her in the waves. But then I saw her again. A  _ selkie _ .”

Nicole breathes in slowly. “Are you sure you didn’t-”

“Nicole,” her aunt says sharply. “I know what I saw. And I saw it. I saw her. I watched her swim away and the next day, when she came to shore, I asked her.”

“What did she do?”

“She ran,” her aunt says softly. “She dove back into the water and I couldn’t see her. She was gone for days. I waited and waited at the shore each day but I didn’t see her again. Not for weeks.” She pauses, her mouth opening and closing for a moment. “Finally, she came back. I remember it clearly. She climbed into my truck and asked me to drive her as far away as I could before the sun set.” 

Nicole can’t help but smile. Her aunt’s eyes are brighter now than they have been in days. She’s smiling again. There’s  _ life _ in the way she tells her story, voice rising and falling.

“She told me everything. About being a selkie. About living in the water. She told me about her husband. How cruel he could be. We drove up the coastline for hours, chasing the sun. She talked the whole time. She wanted to be free. Free of him, of the sea. She told me she spent her whole life wanting to be more than just some story people tell their children.” She looks at Nicole. “She wanted to know she was real.” She exhales slowly. “We finally stopped in Gander. It was getting dark. She told me to go home, back to Purgatory.”

“She stayed,” Nicole finishes. “She left the sea.”

“I left her on a corner in Gander. I watched her get smaller in the rearview mirror as I drove away.” Her aunt focuses again, looking at Nicole. “She didn’t just leave the water behind. She left everything.”

“How?” Nicole blinks. “How could she just leave it all behind?”

Her aunt squeezes her hand gently. “We all have to leave eventually, Nicole.”

Nicole swallows hard against the lump in her throat. 

“I think about her, you know,” her aunt admits. “If she’s happy. If she found someone to love, someone who loves her. If she misses her girls.” She runs her thumb over Nicole’s fingers. “I hope she is. I hope she found what she was looking for.” She’s quiet for a long moment, eyes fluttering closed. “Wendy. Her name was Wendy.”

Nicole nods even though her aunt can’t see her. “I’m sure Wendy thinks of you too.”

Her aunt smiles. “I hope so. 

She watches her aunt sleep for a few minutes.  _ It’s probably a story _ , she reasons. Her aunt loves stories. She’s never told Nicole this one before, but that doesn’t mean anything. It only means that there are stories left to tell. She stands slowly, reaching for the blanket on the back of the couch. She drapes it over her aunt, pulling it up under her chin. 

“Sleep tight,” she says quietly.

She settles back in her armchair, reaching for her cup of tea. It’s cold now, but she holds onto it all the same.

_ Selkies _ , she thinks. She shakes her head and looks back down at the book she was working on reading. She wants to believe her aunt. She wants to tell her that she does. But something stops her from saying it out loud. She can’t lie. Not to her aunt. Not now. 

_ “Hope was all that stood between them and death _ ,” she reads. 

She looks back at her aunt and takes a deep breath. 

-

She starts counting the days between Waverly. 

The summer is starting the slow stretch into fall and the nights are start to get cooler. Nicole finds her aunt’s old jacket in the back of the closet where she stored it at the end of winter and pulls it on in the mornings when she makes her way to the gallery deck. She likes to watch the ships come in as the sun creeps along the water. They dot the horizon, drifting closer until she can make out their masts and their gunwales and their bows. She takes her morning coffee up with her and lets the steam waft into the air around her. 

She used to do this with her aunt. 

They would sneak up while the sun was still fresh in the sky and so far away. Her aunt would tell her stories about sailors and sirens. Nicole used to listen intently, eyes always scanning the horizon to see if the sirens were out there, just waiting to call sailors into the sea. The stories changed over the years. Her aunt stopped talking about mermaids and selkies and told her stories about her dad growing up, about what living as a lighthouse keeper’s daughter was like. 

Nicole breathes in her coffee and scans the shoreline again. The water ripples where the currents meet. She takes a sip and winces at the sharp burn that comes. It’s been three days since she last saw Waverly. Three days since they sat on the gallery deck, legs swinging in the open air. Three days since she held Waverly’s hand as they stared at the water.

It’s been a long three days.

She looks down at the water again. A few thousand yards out, something comes up to the surface, dipping back into the depths just as quickly. Nicole follows the current around it, counting seconds until it surfaces again. It comes back up but Nicole loses it when she blinks.

She thinks of being in that boat with Perry, Chrissy, and Shae.  _ A mermaid _ , she had thought. A tail in the distance. Something like belief had fluttered in her chest then and she feels it stirring again now. What if it was a mermaid? Waverly told her about them. She had talked about them as if they were real. As if Nicole was foolish for not believing in them.

So what if they are real? What if there is a mermaid floating beneath her, looking up at her from the water, staring back at her? She wonders what it would look like; if it would have a shimmering tail or long hair that drifted dreamily in the water. 

Nicole takes another sip of her coffee and smiles to herself. If her aunt was here, she’d tell a story about someone in her family, in Nicole’s family, who knew a mermaid once; who had fallen in love with a mermaid.  _ It’s inevitable _ , her aunt had said once.  _ We’re always going to love the sea and everything in it. It’s in our blood _ . 

It surfaces again and Nicole sees something flick into the air. She sits up a little taller, one hand gripping the railing in front of her as she breathes in sharply.

“There’s no way,” she says out loud. The air whistles back.

But it comes up again and she sees it, clear as day. A tail, just above the water’s surface. 

Her heart starts to pound in her chest and her blood rushes in her ears. She tries to reason with herself. It’s probably just a seal. They’re everywhere this time of year, drifting closer to the shore. But 10-year-old Nicole, just moved into the lighthouse and a little afraid of the water, starts to feel hope bubble in her chest. 

_ Look _ , her aunt would say.  _ Look, right there. It must be a mermaid _ .

She follows the small ripples in the water as the tail disappears again, tracing its path. It comes up again and Nicole puts down her coffee mug, forgetting about it. She puts a hand across her forehead, shielding the morning sun from getting in her eyes. She can feel the excitement rising.  _ I’m telling the truth _ , her aunt always insisted.  _ They’re real. You just have to believe _ . Nicole grips the railing until her palm aches, her whole body taut as she scans the water’s surface.

Something ripples below her.  _ There _ .

It comes back up out of the water and Nicole holds her breath. It perches on a rock and she exhales. A dark gray seal settles against the bright sky. 

She sinks back against the worn wooden plank she’s sitting on. It’s not a mermaid. It’s just a seal, coming to shore. She shakes her head. “Idiot,” she mutters. Of course, it wouldn’t be a mermaid. They don’t exist, no matter what her aunt or Waverly said. She takes a sip of her coffee but it tastes bitter and she puts it back down again.

Nicole takes a deep breath and runs a hand down her front, trying to wipe the sweat off her palm. She looks back down, watching a second seal crest the surface, sharing a rock with the first seal. This one is lighter, a softer gray than the other. Nicole sighs again.

She looks away, towards the horizon. She missed the last few minutes of the sunrise and now the sun is high in the sky, its rays already stretching across the dock and the rest of Purgatory. She takes in another deep breath. She should get downstairs now and take a shower. Chrissy is coming by soon. They’re going to take a trip to St. John’s so Chrissy can go to the Avalon Mall, to some store for a dress she saw in the catalog. She should at least look put together and hiding her hair under a hat isn’t going to cut it today.

She looks back down again, her coffee cup halfway to her mouth when she stops.

The seals are gone.

Someone, a woman, is climbing on the rocks towards the shoreline. Another is behind her, carefully picking her way through the rocks. She squints and her breath catches in her throat.

It’s  _ Waverly _ .

It’s Waverly and Willa. Nicole scans the water. There’s no boat. No dinghy. No pontoon. Nothing in the water that they could have jumped off to swim to shore. She watches them dip around the biggest rock and pull something from it. Willa passes it back to Waverly. Waverly’s hair hangs down around her bare shoulders and Nicole looks down quickly, focusing instead on the long legs disappearing into a pair of shorts. She watches Waverly run a hand through her hair, pushing it back off her face.

_ No _ .

Nicole looks back at the water, trying to find where Waverly and Willa docked. She turns to the boatyard but nothing looks out of place, nothing looks like it just anchored. The usual boats rock softly in their usual slips. There’s nothing in the water they could have jumped off of or swam in from. Just miles and miles of dark blue water, broken only by rocks and shorelines. 

And seals.

She shakes her head. The seals must have just dove back under the surface. They’re probably swimming back out to sea. Because if they’re not, if they didn’t, then it wouldn’t make sense. 

The seals were there but they’re gone now and all that’s left is Waverly.

Waverly, in jean shorts and a gray t-shirt and long, wet hair, trailing behind Willa as they move over the rocks and towards the shoreline. Waverly, who sat on the gallery deck with her and told her about the mermaids and sirens. Waverly, who pressed a finger to Nicole’s chest and told her,  “You just have to feel it here.”

Waverly, who stood on a rock where a seal had been. 

Nicole shakes her head again, trying to blink herself back into reality. She laughs, something sharp in the air. It doesn’t make any sense. 

But then she starts to think, and - maybe it does. 

She’s never sen Waverly come in from town. She and Willa have always come up from the rocks, hair wet, no boat in sight. She was there one time, by herself, hiding behind the same rock Willa pulled something - clothes - out from. She talks about the sea like her aunt used to, hope and conviction in her eyes. She never sees them leave, either. Nothing in the distance drifting across the water’s surface. They’re here and then they’re gone. There’s nothing and then they’re there, almost like they’re appearing out of thin air.

_ No, out of the sea _ . 

She thinks mermaid for a minute, but she knows that can’t be true. She saw a seal. A dark gray one and a lighter gray, perched on a rock where Waverly and Willa stood a moment later. Seals. And she knows the stories. Seals who come to shore, hiding their pelts and walking on two legs. She remembers the stories her aunt told her. She remembers Wendy, the woman from the water who wanted a new life. 

She watches Waverly stumble over a rock, just like she did the first time Nicole met her and she knows. 

_ A selkie _ .

She reaches for her cup and takes a long swallow of cold coffee, watching as they make it to the sandy shore, Willa tossing her head impatiently towards the lighthouse. Nicole scrambles away from the edge, pulling her feet back onto the deck. She can hear Willa’s voice drifting up now, but she can’t make out the words. The wind roars in her ears. Nicole swallows against the growing knot in her throat.

“I don’t have all day, Waverly,” she hears Willa say.

Nicole can barely make out Waverly’s voice. “I just want to stop and say hello.”

“There’s no time.”

Nicole pushes back even further, the lighthouse rough against the back of her jacket. Her mind is racing.  _ Selkie, selkie, selkie _ , she thinks over and over again. 

Waverly sighs, just loud enough for Nicole to hear.

_ Selkie _ .

Her coffee cup slips from her hand and lands noisily on the wooden plank. It spins in circles before Nicole cn pick it up, barely catching it before it rolls off the edge and onto the ground below. She hears the crunching gravel stop somewhere below her.

“What was that?” Will asks sharply.

Nicole holds her breath.

Waverly looks up, glancing at the gallery deck, but Nicole has already slipped into the lantern room, her heart pounding in her chest as she holds a hand to it.

_ Selkie _ .

She stays in the lantern room for a moment, watching the light whir in circles, slow and methodical. She lets herself get lost in its glow long enough that she doesn’t hear Willa’s cutting voice or the sound of footsteps in the loose rock anymore.

She thinks about her aunt and the stories and she thinks of Waverly’s face until she sees spots in her eyes.

“A selkie,” she breathes.

-

She’s there when Waverly comes back in from town,Willa gone from her side. Nicole leans up against the base of the lighthouse, the box of plaster in her hands forgotten as she spots Waverly behind her truck.

She’s been thinking about her all day. She’s been thinking about Waverly in the water, cutting through the current, a tail pushing her into its depths. She’s been thinking of Waverly’s wet hair and her long, bare legs. Nicole runs a hand through her hair and looks at Waverly and thinks.

_ Selkie _ .

Waverly doesn’t see her, pausing at the open tailgate and looking around, eyes landing on the sea. 

Nicole pushes off the lighthouse and forward. “Hey.”

Waverly turns, a smile on her face. “Hey. I was wondering if you were here.”

Nicole lifts the box of plaster she’s holding. “Just getting some holes patched.”

“I feel like you’re always patching holes.

Nicole smiles back. “Every time I get one set, there’s another.” She sighs and looks back at the lighthouse. “I’ll need to redo the whole foundation sometime in the next couple of years. I’m just holding out until I have the money.”

Waverly moves closer. “Doesn’t the town pay for that?”

“Sure,” Nicole agrees. “They help out a little bit. But Purgatory is… There’s other places we could use the money.”

“Other places than the one thing that ensures the safety of the boats that come and go.”

Nicole smiles crookedly. “I’ll get the money together. The town’ll help. It’s just a matter of timing it right. You don’t want to do it in the summer months, in case they have to turn the lantern off for a while. But the boats that go out in the winter need it just as bad.” She shrugs. “Like I said. Timing.”

“You’ll come up with it,” Waverly says confidently. She’s closer now. If she lifted her arm, her hand would brush Nicole’s. Something bubbles in Nicole’s chest. She wants to reach out and take Waverly’s hand. She’s been thinking about it for days now. Dreaming about it, too. But Waverly hovers where she is.

“So,” Nicole says after a minute. “You here by yourself?”

Waverly looks back over her shoulder. “No,” she sighs. “Willa came into town with me. She’s still with…”

“Champ,” Nicole finishes. She frowns. “What is the deal with the two of them? I thought you were dating him.”

“Oh, we’re not dating.” Waverly makes a face. “We’re just…” She takes a deep breath. “It’s hard to describe.”

Nicole shrugs. “Okay.”

“Okay,” Waverly says slowly.

Nicole smiles a little. “Yeah. Okay.”

Waverly looks past her, up to the top of the lighthouse. “I’ve been thinking about you.”

That bubble in Nicole’s chest swells. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Waverly’s eyes go back to her. “Being that high up was… breathtaking.”

“Oh,” Nicole says lightly.

“And…” Waverly takes a step forward, her hand flexing at her side. She lifts her arm slightly before it drops back down. “And I’ve been thinking about… Well.” She smiles, cheeks flushed. “I’ve been thinking about you,” she says again.

Nicole steps closer. “I’ve been thinking about you too,” she admits. She reaches out now, catching Waverly’s hand in her own. Her palm is warm and smooth against Nicole’s.  _ A seal’s fur is sleek and smooth _ , she thinks. She read that in one of the books her aunt got her when she moved into the lighthouse. 

Waverly’s smile widens. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Nicole says quickly. She looks down at their hands and then shakes her head. “I mean, yeah. I have. I thought you’d come back sooner, but-”

“I wanted to.” Waverly squeezes her hand. “I just couldn’t. My sister is… Hard to get away from. Especially if she knew I was coming to see you.”

Nicole snorts. “Your sister hates me.”

Waverly doesn’t argue with her. “And my dad…” She trails off, eyes unfocused. “He doesn’t like it when I leave home alone. He worries about me.”

Nicole squeezes Waverly’s hand back. “I like Wynonna.”

Waverly blinks, a smile on her face now. “I love Wynonna. I think she’s my best friend.”

A boat horn sounds somewhere from the docks and Waverly jumps a little. Nicole turns to watch it cut its engine and drift in.  _ I wonder how does a selkie get around a boat _ , she wonders.  _ Do they seek them out like sirens? Do they watch from the water like mermaids? _

Waverly’s hand moves in hers and Nicole turns back. “Sorry. That’s my friend Perry’s boat.” She rolls her eyes. “I mean, it’s not  _ his  _ boat. But it’s the boat he works on.”

“I never had a lot of friends,” Waverly admits. “Wynonna is really my only friend.”

“You’d like my friends, I think.” Nicole shifts her weight from side to side. “Perry works on the boats. Nd Chrissy, his girlfriend, works at the bank. She’s my best friend. Rosita, she’s the bartender at Shorty’s. You probably know her.”

“And that man with the hat. Doc?”

Nicole smiles. “Doc and I are… we’re kind of friends, I guess. He helps out around here when I need him to.” Nicole looks back at the lighthouse, then up at the gallery deck. It’s small from here on the ground but she knows how it feels like she’s on top of the world when she sits up there. “Listen, do you want to go up there with me?”

“Yes,” Waverly says quickly. She flushes. “I mean, yes. If you want to.”

Nicole smiles and turns, her hand in still Waverly’s. She holds on as they climb the stairs, only letting go when they get closer to the top and the stairs get more narrow. They edge around the lantern to the small glass door leading to the gallery deck. Nicole opens it for Waverly and lets her go first. She hangs back to watch Waverly’s face, the wonder that comes over it as she slips out into the open air. 

“Are you coming?”

Nicole blinks and steps out onto the gallery deck, sitting down next to Waverly. Their legs touch and Nicole can feel her bare skin through the threadbare denim of her jeans. Her feet dangle over the edge and Waverly’s hand taps out a beat that Nicole can’t quite place. She watches the sea breeze blow Waverly’s still-damp back over her shoulder. The strands are long and smooth. She imagines Waverly gliding through the water, slipping through the rolling currents effortlessly, the way her hair rises and falls in the wind.

“And, you’re not listening to a thing I’m saying,” Waverly says kindly. Her hand drifts a little, the tips of her fingers on Nicole’s knee now.

Nicole feels her face flush. “Sorry. I was thinking.”

“About…”

Nicole blinks. “About selkies.”

Waverly’s face tightens a little, her smile wooden for a second. “Selkies,” she repeats.

Nicole steels her shoulders and smiles. “You told me that you were going to tell me about the selkies. Remember?”

Waverly looks across the sea out towards the horizon. “Did I?”

“You did.” Nicole takes a deep breath and looks away as she drops her hand over Waverly’s. Waverly’s hand turns in hers, their palms sliding together. She can feel Waverly’s heartbeat where their wrists meet. “Because you told me about the mermaids and the sirens already. So all that’s left is the selkies.”

“Oh,” Waverly says faintly. “There’s plenty of other creatures in the sea.” She perks up a little. “Have you ever heard about the Kraken?”

Nicole sways, her shoulder against Waverly’s. “You mean the world’s biggest octopus.”

“Well, I don’t know if it’s the world’s  _ biggest _ octopus. There’s a whole world under the water that we don’t know”

“I want to hear about the selkies, though,” Nicole interrupts. Waverly’s hand is clammy in her own. “You promised.”

Waverly shifts. “I don’t think I  _ promised _ .”

Nicole pushes out her bottom lip. “Please?” she asks. She looks at Waverly and thinks,  _ what are you hiding _ ?

“Nicole…”

Nicole eases back. “Okay.” She looks across the water. If she squints, she can see the tiny dots on the horizon. Boats coming home for the night. They’ll dock for a few hours and then they’ll be out on the water again, men just trying to find a way to live. She takes a deep breath in, holding it until her lungs start to burn.

_ A selkie _ , she says over and over again in her mind.  _ What if Waverly doesn’t want to talk about selkies because she  _ is _ one _ ? Something in her sparks and she opens her mouth, letting the air out in a single, noisy stream.

“What if I tell you a story?”

Waverly smiles widely. “You’ll tell me a story?”

Nicole nods. “My aunt used to tell me stories all the time. Most of them…” She smiles fondly. “Well, they probably we’re true. But I was so young and it was my first time ner the water. I believed everything she told me then. I’d catalog it all and tell her the stories instead.” Her chest aches like it usually does when she thinks about her aunt. “I think she liked that the best. Me telling the stories.”

Waverly’s hair falls across her shoulder, her chin brushing carefully over the top of Nicole’s t-shirt. “Tell me a story, lighthouse keeper.”

Nicole turns, her lips barely grazing Waverly’s forehead. “It’s about a selkie,” she whispers. She pretends not to notice the way Waverly goes still. 

“A selkie,” Waverly repeats after a moment.

Nicole nods. “When my aunt was younger, when my grandfather was the lighthouse keeper, she met a woman who came to shore. She said the woman was beautiful, the kind of woman you would see in a magazine. She came to shore day after day after day. Finally, my aunt introduced herself.” She smiles as she thinks about her aunt telling her this story. “The woman was as nice as she was beautiful.”

Waverly’s hand jumps in hers. Nicole squeezes it softly. Her mouth rests against Waverly’s forehead, the skin soft under her lips.

“They talked for hours. And the woman came back the next day. And the day after that. My aunt told her all about Purgatory. All about living in a lighthouse. She said the woman would sit up here on this same gallery deck for hours, watching the sun rise and set on the water.” Nicole makes a noise in the back of her throat. “Just like you.”

Waverly hums a little. 

Nicole breathes in the smell of seawater in Waverly’s hair. “But one day, my aunt followed the woman to the shore. She didn’t tell me why she did. Maybe she wanted to keep talking. Maybe she wanted to say one more goodbye. But when she got to the water, she watched the woman disappear under the wave. And when she resurfaced, she was a seal.”

Waverly’s small laugh sounds stilted. “A seal.” 

Nicole squeezes Waverly’s hand agin. “A  _ selkie _ ,” she breathes. “A living, breathing selkie.”

“I thought you didn’t believe in those,” Waverly says softly.

“My aunt did.” She thinks back to her aunt’s service, to Chrissy’s words. “Maybe that’s enough.”

Waverly is quiet, her chin a sharp point on Nicole’s shoulder. They sit there for so many heartbeats that Nicole has to stop counting. The sun is starting to climb back down towards the water and there’s an orange haze drifting across everything. It settles on the flat of Waverly’s cheeks.

“Don’t you want to know what happened then?” she asks Waverly quietly.

Waverly only breathes in and out against Nicole’s  collarbone.

“She stayed away for days. My aunt looked for each morning, but there was nothing. She didn’t come back. But my aunt kept looking for her, to see if she was coming. And then…” Nicole closes her eyes, trying to picture her aunt’s face. “She came back. And she told my aunt the truth.”

“The truth,” Waverly repeats.

“That she was a selkie.” Nicole runs her thumb over Waverly’s knuckles. “And once she told the truth, she couldn’t stop. She told my aunt about what it was like to live in the water. What it was like to be a  _ selkie _ . She told my aunt everything.”

Waverly hums softly.

“She told my aunt about her family. She had a husband and daughters.” Nicole taps a finger against the back of Waverly’s hand. “But she couldn’t stand it. She told my aunt that she was suffocating. Her husband was awful and her girls were too much. She loved them, she told my aunt, but she wasn’t a mother. She didn’t know how to be one.” Nicole sighs softly. “She wanted to be free.”

“We all want to be free,” Waverly finally says. “In some way.”

“Well, she got free.” Nicole turns back to look at the water. “She came to shore one day and told my aunt she needed to go. She needed to get away from the sea and the things inside of it. Her husband. Her daughters. She had three of them, I think my aunt said.” She thinks for a moment. She starts to nod. “Yeah, three girls. The oldest was just like her father. The middle one was wild. And the youngest was the baby. She told my aunt she was little. That there was a chance she would forget all about her someday. I think she kind of wanted that.”

Waverly stops breathing. Nicole can feel it as she holds her breath in, but she doesn’t stop.

“My aunt left her in Gander. She never heard from her again.” Nicole frowns softly. “I wonder what was so bad that she couldn’t stay. Or, I guess, she didn’t  _ want _ to stay. My aunt told me she was so unhappy, she wanted to get as far away from the sea as she could get. So she gave everything up, she gave up being a selkie, just to leave it all behind.”

“What...” Waverly trembles against her. “What was her name?”

“Wendy.”

Waverly swallows hard enough that Nicole feels it. “She left.”

“Everything,” Nicole agrees. “Her husband. Her daughters. My aunt said she never looked back.”

Waverly’s hand slips out of her s she moves away from Nicole, standing quickly.

“Waverly,” Nicole says, standing up. “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing,” Waverly says quickly. She won’t look up at Nicole. “There’s nothing wrong. I have to go.”

Nicole looks down over the riling, confused. “But Willa isn’t back yet.”

“I have to go,” Waverly repeats. She’s already in the lantern room, rounding the light. “Don’t-”

Nicole reaches forward. “Just wait a second.”

“Don’t,” Waverly says again. “Don’t… Don’t follow me. Please.” She’s hovering in the doorway, looking nervously over her shoulder at the winding steps. She wrings her hands together. “Nicole, stay here.”

“Waverly-”

“Stay  _ here _ .” Waverly sways forward and settles on her heels. “I have to go.”

Nicole sighs. “Okay.”

“I have to go,” she repeats. “I’ll… Goodbye, Nicole.”

Nicole feels the words in her chest. They settle heavily in the spaces between her ribs. It feels final, the word  _ goodbye _ . She wants to reach out and grab Waverly by the hand. Pull her in and try and calm her down. But Waverly’s eyes are wild as she looks back over her shoulder at the stairs again. Her fists flex at her sides. There’s something about Waverly right now. Something untamed. Something fraid.

_ She’s afraid _ , Nicole thinks. But it’s more than that. There’s anger, too, in the way her mouth sits in one flat line across her face. Sadness in her eyes.

Nicole looks at her and thinks, she really doesn’t know Waverly at all.

Nicole listens to the sound of her feet down the stairs and the rush of blood in her ears. She can hear the gravel crunch outside through the open door leading to the gallery deck. She closes her eyes tight until she sees stars. Everything in her body yells to turn around and watch Waverly disappear into the ocean. She fights it as it screams inside of her until she can’t stand the sound anymore. She turns quickly, stepping out onto the deck. 

Waverly is dropping down off the edge of the rocks that led down to the water. Nicole watches her peel her shirt over her head, tossing it behind the large rock. She peels off the shorts she’s wearing, leaving them in the same place. Nicole can see her take a deep breath before she slips around the biggest rock, disappearing for a moment. Nicole doesn’t blink, eyes trained on the water.

A seal breaks the surface just past the rock.

Nicole exhales loudly and she knows, without a doubt, the truth.

Waverly Earp is a selkie.


	7. at the edge, alone, burning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Waverly looks at her quietly. “But you don’t believe in those things.”
> 
> Nicole wets her lips. “I’m starting to believe that I was wrong.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is no rhyme or reason to the posting schedule. For that, I am sorry.

“Something’s up with you,” Chrissy says as she looks at Nicole over the rim of her margarita.

Nicole picks at the label on her beer bottle and shrugs a shoulder. “I’m fine.”

Chrissy points a finger in her direction. “See? Something is wrong. So, what is it?”

Nicole looks past Chrissy, at the quickly-filling bar and the one open pool table that won’t stay that way for long. She knows it’s only a matter of time until Champ comes in with his friends. She wrinkles her nose. The only thing worse than Champ Hardy is Champ Hardy and the York brothers. They circle the bar like vultures, honing in on girls who got stuck visiting Purgatory for the night, trying to reel them in. She can’t stomach watching them most nights.

“Nicole,” Chrissy says, pulling her back in. 

Nicole blinks. “Sorry. What?”

“Something is wrong,” Chrissy prompts.

“Oh, right.” Nicole shrugs again. “It’s nothing. Really.”

Chrissy points a finger at her. “You’re lying to me. I know that you’re lying to me.”

Nicole sighs. “Fine. Okay.” She puts her bottle down on the table and presses her hands flat. “There’s this girl and-”

Chrissy grins. “I  _ knew _ it. Perry totally owes me.”

Nicole rolls her eyes. “I’m so glad this is fun for you.”

“Oh, honey.” Chrissy reaches out and pats her hand gently. “You know we love you.” She pauses. “So, does this girl love you too? Do I know her? Is it Shae?” Her eyes widen. “Is it  _ Shae _ ?”

“Okay, first of all.” Nicole slips her hand out from Chrissy’s. She can still feel Waverly’s hand in hers sometimes when she focuses hard enough. “It’s not Shae.”

Chrissy pouts. “I always thought you guys were it.”

Something soft and safe washes over Nicole. “I thought so too,” she admits. “I think, if things had been different. If she wasn’t always out on that boat, it would have been.” 

She thinks about it sometimes. Especially after Shae left for the Barents. She laid in bed and she knew that Shae was never coming back. Shae would never be back in her bed, in her kitchen drinking her coffee, kissing her goodbye before she took the next trip out on the water. And a part of her aches for that. Shae knows so much about her and there’s familiarity and comfort there. Something she’s not sure she’ll find again. She knows she’ll find someone -  _ maybe you did _ , she thinks - but Shae will know what it was like for Nicole to grow up in a sea town, so attached to the land. She knows all of Nicole’s teenage secrets. She lived through them; held Nicole’s hand through it all. And that’ll be hard to teach someone else.

“But it’s not,” Nicole finishes. “It’s…” She takes a deep breath. “You know that girl who comes in with Champ sometimes?”

Chrissy’s mouth turns down. “Wait,  _ that _ girl? The one with the-” She makes a circle around her face, pulling her eyebrows in and pinching her mouth.

Nicole’s eyes widen. “No. No, not her. The other girl.”

Chrissy snaps her fingers. “The cute one.”

“I hadn’t noticed,” Nicole says faintly. She sags at the look on Chrissy’s face. “Okay, yes. The cute one.”

Chrissy’s eyes light up. “She is  _ really _ cute. So, tell me everything.” She frowns a little. “She’s always here with Champ, though, right?”

_ Champ _ . The name leaves a bad taste in Nicole’s mouth.

“I mean, I guess they’re dating,” Nicole admits. “But I don’t think she likes him very much.”

Chrissy’s eyes soften a little. “Oh, honey. If she’s already dating someone..”

Nicole shakes her head. “No. I know she doesn’t like him. And…” She looks around and leans forward. “She held my hand. Twice.”

Chrissy takes a measured sip of her drink, putting it down slowly. “Do you remember Petra?”

Nicole groans. “It’s not like Petra.”

“She was seeing that creep from St. Johns,” Chrissy continues over her. “And she kept telling you she was going to leave him, that she didn’t even like him. Do you remember that.”

“It’s not like Petra,” Nicole repeats.

Chrissy shakes her head. “I don’t want to see that happen again to you. We’re the ones who had to convince you to get out of bed, remember that?”

Nicole presses the heel of her palm to her forehead. “It’s not like that. Waverly is… It’s  _ different _ . We were up on the gallery deck and she was telling me some things about the sea and she was holding my hand. And for the first time since Shae, I felt… I don’t know,” she admits. “I felt like maybe I could believe in things again.”

Chrissy is quiet for a moment, looking at her before she smiles and rolls her eyes. “The gallery deck, huh? You need a new move, Haught. Recycling old stuff isn’t a turn on for anyone.”

Nicole kicks her lightly under the table. “It’s not like that,” she insists. “I don’t know what it is about her, but it’s there. Except…” She trails off, frowning. “I think I, I don’t know. Scared her off, or something.”

“Scared her off?” Chrissy snorts. “You’re about as scary as a bunny rabbit.”

“Hey, don’t knock bunny rabbits. You remember reading  _ Bunnicula _ , don’t you?” Nicole shudders. “I had nightmares about it.”

Chrissy just shakes her head. “So, you scared her off. How?”

Nicole pauses, the words rolling in her mind. She can’t tell Chrissy. She can’t tell anyone. It’s not her secret to tell. Not before she talks to Waverly. But the thought sits there, whispering to come out. She shakes her head. “I just did,” she says instead. 

Chrissy takes another sip of her drink. “Okay. So what’re you going to do about it?”

Nicole tips her head to one side. “What?”

“What’re you going to do about it?” Chrissy asks again. “Because the Nicole Haught I know isn’t a quitter.”

“I’ve quit plenty of things.” Nicole sighs at the look on Chrissy’s face. “I want to see her again. Without, you know.” She waves her hand around the bar. “Somewhere, just the two of us. Without Champ or her  _ sister _ watching her.”

“Yeah,” Chrisy says. “That chick is a little… grouchy.”

Nicole snorts. “That’s being nice about it.” She sighs. “I just don’t know if she’s going to come back. She’s not from around here and she’s not really… on a schedule.”

Chrissy finishes her margarita and puts down the glass. “When she comes back, you’ll talk to her. She’ll want to talk to you. You’re a catch.”

Nicole makes a face.

“Yeah, okay,” Chrissy says after a minute. “That felt weird to say.”

“You’ve been hanging out with your dad too much.” Nicole looks at the bar and catches Rosita’s eye, lifting her bottle into the air. Rosita nods and fishes a fresh one out of the cooler on the other side of the bar, setting to down to bring it over later. “He’s good, though, right?”

“Working too much,” Chrissy sighs. “I keep telling him it’s time to retire, but he’s not sure who could take over. I keep hoping that maybe Perry would be interested, but…” She shrugs a shoulder. “He’s not made for the land, is he.”

Nicole reaches out and pats Chrissy’s hand gently. “You did always want to be a fisherman’s wife.”

“I was  _ eight _ when I said that.” Chrissy turns her hand over, their fingers lacing together. “But it doesn’t mean it isn’t still true. Now, if he ever decides he wants to get married, I’ll be the last person to know.”

“Isn’t that how it works?”

“I’m a modern woman, Nicole.” Chrissy waves politely at Cecil Wright Jr., sitting at the bar. “We’ve already talked about it. He wants to go a few more seasons. Cement his place on the boat. I think he’s worried he’s still going to lose his spot to those kids coming out of the high school. They’re ten years younger. They can lift more. He forgets that he played hockey and can bench those kids for fun.” She sighs heavily and slips her hand out from Nicole’s. “Anyway, tell me about this girl. What’s her name? What’s she like?”

Nicole feels her face flush. She’s not sure if it’s the three beers she’s had or the thought of Waverly holding her hand, hair in the wind.  _ Maybe it’s both _ , she reasons. It’s definitely a little bit Waverly. She can still feel her forehead under lips, the weight of Waverly’s hand in hers. Last night she dreamed she was sitting on the gallery deck and Waverly was with her, their feet swinging above the ground and the setting sun stretching out ahead of them. 

Chrissy snaps a finger in her face. “Uh, earth to Nicole.”

Nicole blinks. “Sorry.”

“Wow,” Chrissy says, dragging the word out. “Who is this girl?”

The door opens, the hot breeze off the water billowing around them as someone comes in. Nicole listens to someone call hey to Rosita and she picks up her empty beer bottle again, peeling the corner of the label. Nicole turns to the sound of the jukebox in the corner coming on, cataloging the faces of the people she’s known her whole life.

“She’s…” Nicole stops. “She’s  _ here _ ,” she finishes breathlessly.

Waverly is there in the doorway, the bright sun a halo around her head as she looks around the room. She’s in jean shorts that Nicole knows she’s seen before, hair wet around her shoulders. Nicole feels the air go thick with something. Waverly hasn’t seen her yet, scanning the bar and stopping at Pete York posted at the corner, a full beer glass next to his half-empty one. Nicole knows he’s waiting there for Champ and Waverly must know it too. She watches Waverly takes a deep breath in before she starts down the steps.

“I’ll be-”

“Go,” Chrissy says, waving her away. “I’ll be here pretending to not spy on you.”

Nicole doesn’t turn back to the table, sliding out of the booth and landing on unsteady legs. She feels like she’s on a boat out in the water, rocking with each step she takes, unsure of how to balance in the sea of people that separate her from Waverly. She slides around them, ignoring their waves and their smiles, focusing in on Waverly until she’s all that Nicole can see.

“Waverly,” Nicole says quietly. She reaches out and touches Waverly’s wrist.

Waverly jumps, spinning around as she pulls her arm to her chest. 

Nicole puts her hands up quickly. “I’m sorry. It’s just me.”

Waverly’s shoulders relax slightly but she narrows her eyes and takes another step back.

Nicole frowns. “It’s me,” she says again.

Something softens on Waverly’s face. “Hey,” she says quietly.

_ Hey _ is on the top of Nicole’s tongue. “Did I do something wrong?” is what comes out instead. 

Waverly drops her arm, looking at Nicole long enough that Nicole runs a hand through her hair self-consciously. “No,” she finally says. “It was me. I… I forgot that I had something to do.”

She’s lying, Nicole knows. She’s looking just over Nicole’s shoulder, eyes shifting to Nicole’s quickly and then looking away just as fast. She’s still curled in on herself, arm across the front of her body. Nicole wants to reach out and take her hand, pull her close, and just hold her. It swells up in her chest, but she pushes it down. Not now. Not here. 

“I thought that maybe…” Nicole shrugs a shoulder. “If I overstepped, then I-”

“No,” Waverly says again. She drops her arm, her hand swinging at her side. “You didn’t.”

She’s not lying now. Nicole can see it in her eyes. She takes a small step forward, testing the space between them. Waverly doesn’t move away, staying in place in front of her. Nicole can feel Chrissy’s eyes burning into the back of her neck, but she ignores them and takes another step forward. Her arm burns as she keeps it firm at her side. She smiles, tipping her head to one side. 

“It’s been a couple of days,” she says casually.

Waverly’s mouth twitches. “It’s been two days.”

Nicole shrugs a shoulder. “Who’s counting?”

“Not you, obviously.” Waverly takes another step closer. 

Nicole matches her step. “Definitely not.”

Waverly smiles wider now. “I wasn’t either.”

Nicole opens her mouth to say something but a large, tan arm drops across Waverly’s shoulders, pulling her in. She watches Waverly wince and she takes another step, eyes already narrowed as she meets Champ’s.

“Haught,” he says, drawing her name out. “What brings you down from your tower?”

“I’m troll hunting,” she says, her hand clenched into a fist at her side.

Champ smirks. “Find anything yet?”

“I’m looking at it.”

The smirk slides off Champ’s face. “Why’re you always bothering my girlfriend, huh?”

Nicole looks at Waverly quickly, at the way her mouth sours when Champ says  _ girlfriend _ so casually. She looks back at Champ and tries to relax her body. “Doesn’t seem like she wants to be here with you.”

Champ squeezes Waverly’s shoulder. “You want to be here, right babe?”

Waverly smiles tightly.

Nicole wants to protest. She wants to tell Champ that it’s so obvious that Waverly doesn’t want to be here.  _ Look at her body _ , she wants to tell him.  _ She’s bracing herself _ . But she quiets the thoughts in her head. She doesn’t need to fight Waverly’s battles. She doesn’t need to put Waverly on the spot any more than she already has. So she takes a deep breath in and lets it out slowly, meeting Champ’s eyes again.

“Sure, Champ. Whatever you say.”

Champ grins. “See? I don’t know why you’re like this.” He turns to Waverly. “She’s always been jealous of me. She always wants what’s mine.”

“Waverly doesn’t belong to anybody,” Nicole hears herself say

Waverly blinks at her.

A thin hand slips through Waverly’s arm, fingers curling around the bend in her elbow. Nicole looks up and finds Willa, eyes hard and her mouth pressed into a thin line.

“You again,” Willa says. “Well aren’t you just a fly that won’t go away.”

Champ’s smile widens. “I was just thinking the same thing.”

“You can think?” Nicole asks.

Champ’s smile falters just a little.

Nicole looks at Waverly again, so small between Champ and Willa. It makes Nicole want to reach out and grab her, pull her closer, and get out of this bar. But she stays still, her hand flexing at her side, and she just wits for Waverly to speak. She’s not sure what she wants her to say. Maybe  _ get me out of here _ . Maybe  _ I want to leave with you _ . Maybe even  _ go away _ . But Waverly stays quiet and looks at Nicole with wide eyes.

Champ tightens his grip on Waverly’s shoulder and tugs her a step back. “Come on, babe, Pete saved us a spot at the bar.”

Waverly looks at her until Champ turns them around and Nicole is left staring at the back of Waverly’s head.

“Now that it’s just us,” Willa says lightly, stepping into her space. “I think it’s time we had a little talk.” She reaches for Nicole’s arm, threading her fingers into the same space she was holding Waverly. “This…  _ thing _ you have, with my sister? It stops now. She has a boyfriend, as you can see, and you’re just confusing her. She doesn’t want to spend time with you up on that stupid lighthouse. She wants to be in town, with Champ.”

Nicole bites down hard on her tongue.

“Now,” Willa continues. “You’re going to stop bothering her. No more sneaking off. No more late nights together. It ends  _ now _ .” Willa’s fingers tighten until Nicole feels a twinge of pain. “Do we understand each other? Nod once if you do.”

Nicole breathes in deep through her nose, the smell of stale beer overpowering her. She looks at the bar, at Champ and Waverly standing at the corner next to Pete. She can see Waverly turned away from Champ, almost as if she’s trying to look back and see where Nicole is.  _ Look at me _ , she says to herself.  _ Just look once _ . But Waverly stays where she is, leaning away from Champ, but her eyes on him. 

She nods sharply, just once.

Willa smiles and it’s all teeth. “Perfect,” she says. “Now that that’s settled, you can go back to your booth with your little friend and when you leave, you can go straight to the door and forget about my sister.” Her hand drops from Nicole’s arm and it aches where she was holding. Willa wiggles her fingers. “Run along now.” 

Nicole watches her weave through the crowd until she’s at Waverly’s side, sandwiching herself Waverly between her and Champ. She stays there for a minute, looking at the curve of Waverly’s neck, her hair pulled over one shoulder, the bottom of her jean shorts and her legs stretching all the way to the floor. Her hand aches to holds Waverly’s. She could still go over there. She could get Waverly free from them and drive her back to the lighthouse and give her a cup of tea and a warm sweater and they could talk about the sea and the things that live there. Maybe Waverly would tell her about the selkies. Maybe Waverly would tell her the truth. 

But she blinks again and Waverly is still standing there, not looking back at her. 

Nicole sighs and turns on her heel, storming back to her table and sliding in across from Chrissy. There’s a fresh bottle on the table that Roistia must have dropped off, and she takes a sip, draining half of it.

“Well,” Chrissy says after a minute. “That didn’t go so well.”

Nicole laughs, the sound dry and dark. “Tell me about it.”

Chrissy takes the bottle out of Nicole’s hands. “That woman looks like a bitch.”

“She is,” Nicole agrees. She takes her bottle back and finishes the rest of it. “Want to get out of here? I feel like I can’t breathe.”

Chrissy pushes away her half-empty margarita. “I thought you’d never ask. You know, one of these nights, we need to go out. Get away from Purgatory Maybe get a hotel room in St. Johns for the night.”

“Maybe,” Nicole sighs.

Chrissy stands and grabs Nicole’s hand, tugging her up out of the booth. “Come on. Let’s go get drunk in the parking lot at the docks and laugh at the names on the boats.”

Nicole rolls her eyes. “ _ Breaking Wind _ is a stupid name, and you know it.”

“But Tommy Jordan doesn’t.”

Nicole is quiet for a minute, her whole body aching to look at Waverly. “It’s still not as bad as  _ The Wet Dream _ ,” she finally says. 

Chrissy laughs. “Remember when that boat docked for the day?  _ Master Baiter _ ?” She grabs Nicole’s arm as she starts to laugh. “My dad looked like he was going to have a heart attack.”

Nicole smiles a little. “Or the one named  _ In-Her Course _ .”

Chrissy makes a fake gagging sound. “People really are that stupid.” She’s slowly pulling Nicole towards the door, stepping lightly around people as they go.

Nicole can feel Waverly getting further away, but she focuses on Chrissy instead, letting herself be pulled around the room. She watches Chrissy throw a haphazard wave back towards the bar, probably at Rosita, and she does the same, trying not to turn too much to the corner so she doesn’t have to see Champ with his big, meaty rm around Waverly’s shoulders. She lets Chrissy pull her out into the parking lot and down the street to Valdez’s liquor store and towards the docks.

The whole time, she tries to pretend she’s not thinking about Waverly Earp. 

-

There’s a knock on the door. She barely hears it over the sound of the TV, but it’s there. Soft at first, then louder until it becomes a hammering noise she can’t miss. Nicole puts down her tea and mutes the television. She takes the stairs slowly. It’s nearly 1 am. Nothing good ever comes at one in the morning.

“Hi,” Waverly says when Nicole pulls the door open.

Nicole blinks a few times. “Waverly?”

Waverly nods, her wet hair swinging as she swallows hard. “It’s late. I’m sorry. Did I wake you up?”

“No,” Nicole says slowly. “I couldn’t sleep. Then there was a  _ Golden Girls _ marathon and on and… I’m sorry. What’re you doing here?”

Willa’s words from yesterday still cut through her mind.  _ She’s just confused _ , Willa had said. And Nicole had tried to take a step back from whatever feeling builds in her stomach every time she thinks about Waverly. It had been a long night drinking with Chrissy and an even worse morning. She had shoveled mulch and rocks so hard all day that her body is still aching.

“I’m dating Chmp,” Waverly says suddenly.

Nicole flinches. “I know,” she says slowly.

“He’s my boyfriend because my family-” She stops herself. “The point is that he’s my boyfriend but I don’t even think I like him. He’s rude and he laughs at things that aren’t funny and he never asks what I think about things, you know? Like, my opinion doesn’t matter to him. And if things were different, if  _ I _ was different, then it might be, you know.  _ Different _ . I wouldn’t have to be dating him and I could do what I wanted and see who I wanted and I could-”

“Woah,” Nicole breathes. She reaches out for Waverly, holding her wrists. “Just, slow down.”

Waverly’s damp hands turn in hers, their fingers lacing. “I want to be brave, Nicole. But I don’t know how to be.”

Nicole squeezes Waverly’s hands gently. “Why don’t you start by coming upstairs, okay?” She looks past Waverly into the dark. “Is… Are your sisters-”

“No,” Waverly says firmly. “I… I snuck away. When no one was looking. They’re going to notice I’m gone soon but I couldn’t stay. I had to…” She swallows. “I had to come to see you.’

That feeling bubbles up in her stomach and into her chest again. It feels warm and safe. Like Waverly’s hand in hers. She lets it bloom in her lungs. The air feels a little cleaner. She feels a little lighter. She pulls gently on Waverly’s hand, getting her out of the doorway, and closing the night out behind them. She doesn’t let go as she walks up to her living quarters, letting Waverly in. Waverly squeezes her hand when Nicole pushes her towards the couch.

“Can we go up?”

_ Up to the gallery deck _ , Nicole knows. She nods. “Want some tea first? Or I can make coffee. I have other things to drink, too. Whiskey, water, soda.”

Waverly smiles softly. “Tea. Tea is fine. And maybe…” She looks at the coatrack by the door, weighed down by Nicole’s winter sweaters and coats. Waverly reaches out and touches a thick white pullover, rubbing the soft cotton between her fingers. “Can I borrow this?”

Nicole is already pulling it out from under the other ones. “Sure. It’s going to be a little big on you.” She bunches up the hem in her hands, nodding towards Waverly. “Here,” she says softly, pulling the sweater down over Waverly’s head. She’s close. Maybe too close. But Waverly’s eyes look different from right here. Like there’s little gold flecks in them. The kind Nicole thinks she sees sometimes in the water. She collects Waverly’s damp hair in her hands, pulling it free from the collar and letting it drift away slowly.

She takes a small step back so she can breathe again.

Waverly slides her arms into the sleeves, pulling them down over her fingers. “It’s warm,” she says, her voice quiet. She turns her face into the shoulder. “It smells like… Seawater.”

Nicole feels her face flush. “I’m sorry. Everything in this place smells like seawater. Even when I wash it a hundred times.”

“No,” Waverly says, shaking her head. “I like it.”

Nicole can feel her heart beating hard in her chest. She turns around, busying herself with emptying her mug and refilling it with the still-hot water in the kettle on the stove. She pulls down her canister of tea bags, finding two cranberry cider herbal bags and setting them in two coffee mugs. The water steams up in her face as she pours it over the bags and she breathes it in, the cranberry and the spice.

“Let me,” Waverly says, taking one of the cups from Nicole. Their hands brush against each other and Nicole inhales in sharply.

Nicole takes the winding stairs up to the lantern room, listening as Waverly follows behind her in bare feet. The lantern spins in its case, lighting up the white room in stops and starts. Nicole edges around it and opens the door to the gallery deck, watching as the light finds Waverly again and again. 

The air is cooler. August is starting to wind down around them. Nicole sits slowly, balancing her tea in her hand. She reaches out for Waverly’s and their hands brush against as she takes the mug from her, holding it until Waverly is sitting next to her. Their thighs press against each other as they sit, breathing in the sharp, salty air.

“I think this is my favorite place in the whole world,” Waverly says softly.

Nicole smiles into her tea. “Mine too.”

“You can see everything from here. It’s almost like we’re in the clouds.” Waverly tips her head back. Nicole follows the line of her neck to the hollow of her throat. “Like if we went any higher, we’d find the top of the sky.”

“I used to think this was the top of the sky,” she admits. “When I was younger and I first moved to Purgatory. My aunt would convince me to come up here and I swore we couldn’t go any higher into the sky than this. I’d never been n a plane before. I didn’t know there was more than just this.”

Waverly turns her head and smiles. “You love it here.”

“This is my home.” Nicole looks back out towards the water. “This is my lighthouse. It was the love of my aunt’s life. I think it’ll be mine, too.”

They sit in silence for a few minutes, nothing but the sound of the small waves crashing against the rocky shores. Nicole breathes in her tea and the salt and wishes she could be brave enough to take Waverly’s hand again.

Waverly moves first, putting down her tea and dropping her hand over Nicole’s knee. “I thought the water was mine.”

Nicole takes a slow, measured breath. “You don’t anymore?”

“I’m not sure,” Waverly admits. “I thought I knew a lot of things before I can here.”

Where she came from hangs between them. Nicole feels it comes over them like a blanket. She drops her hand over Waverly’s and her heart pounds when Waverly’s hand turns instantly in hers.

“Will you tell me?” Nicole asks softly.

Waverly is quiet long enough that Nicole isn’t sure she said anything out loud. But then she takes a deep breath in and turns to Nicole, her lips parted. “It’s a myth,” she says. Her voice shakes.

She remembers her aunt’s words. “Myths are only the truth told over and over again.”

“I thought you didn’t believe in these stories anymore.”

“I don’t know,” Nicole admits quietly. “Lately, I’ve been thinking that I was wrong. To not believe.”

Waverly’s pulse jumps wildly against Nicole’s wrist. “So now you’re a believer.”

“Maybe you made me into one.” Nicole doesn’t turn to look at Waverly, even when she feels Waverly look at her. “I don’t know anymore.”

Waverly doesn’t say anything for a long few minutes. Nicole watches the black water roil and tries to find the soft lights in the distance, boats on their way out, and boats on their way in. Boats just existing in the night, not moving forward and back.

“They descend down from Scottish mythology,” Waverly finally says. “Selkie fowk, they were called. It means seal people.”

Nicole smiles softly and bumps her shoulder against Waverly’s. “I knew that part.”

Waverly glances at her out of the corner of her eye. “Am I telling you about them, or are you telling me about them?”

Nicole puts her free hand up into the air. “Please. I won’t interrupt again.”

Waverly squeezes her hand. “There are different versions of the origin, though. I bet you didn’t know that.” She waits for Nicole to shake her head. “They all start the same way, but both of the Northern Isles, Orkney and Shetland, tells the story a little differently. There’s even a selkie myth for Iceland and the Faroe Islands.” She goes quiet again.

“Hey,” Nicole says. She breathes in and leans forward, her lips against Waverly’s temple. “You don’t have to do this. I did a whole book report on selkies. I can just pull that out of the mountains of work my aunt kept from elementary school and reread it.”

Waverly shakes her head, her mouth pressed into a thin line. “Selkies are interesting, you know? Because some people, like W. Traill Dennison, a folklorist, said that the title of selkie distinguished them from merfolk, while Samuel Hibbert, a geologist referred to them as mermaids and mermen. In Shetland mythology, they even sometimes refer to them as finfolk or Finns for short. It’s the name for dwellers of the sea who can remove their seal-skin and transform into humans. Then there’s whole Norse thing with Finns and-” She stops. “None of that is what you want to hear.”

Nicole smiles softly. “I want to know whatever you want to tell me. I like to listen to you speak,” she admits.

Waverly pulls back a little. “You do?”

Nicole nods. “So if you want to go into Norse mythology, I’m here for that.”

Waverly pulls her closer again. “I won’t bore you with Norse mythology. We’ll be here all night.” She pauses. “But I will tell you that in Gaelic stories, selkie is a rarely used word. They usually just refer to them as mermaids. Well,  _ maiden of the sea _ , really, but it’s commonly translated into mermaid.”

A foghorn blows in the distance and the lantern above them answers, casting light onto the water. 

“The first story,” Waverly starts. “The first story of the selkie is a man and his lover. A seal woman he compelled to be his wife.” There’s something bitter in her voice. “Compelled is putting nicely, I suppose.”

“He stole it,” Nicole fills in.

Waverly hums. “He found her naked on the shore, stripped of her seal skin. And instead of giving back to her, he took it and hid it away. She was bound to him. A captive. Without her skin, she was helpless to him. She bore him children but the ocean called to her, constantly. She would spend hours staring at the water’s edge, wishing to go back.”

“It sounds lonely,” Nicole whispers.

“It sounds awful.” Waverly’s hand shifts in hers. “She couldn’t return to the water without her skin. She would get it back, eventually. One of her children would find it hidden in a roofing tile. Or she would be searching for something in the house and find it under her husband’s bed. In every myth, she would find, eventually. It just might break her first.”

The lantern spins around in circles on the water and Nicole watches it for a minute, letting it wash away the pain she can hear in Waverly’s voice. She listens to Waverly breathe, in and out and in again. Another fog horn sounds in the distance, closer now. Nicole can’t see the lights of the boat, but she knows it’s coming.

“They say selkies can only come to shore once every seven years,” Waverly continues. “Some legends, at least. There are ones that agree with that, that selkies can only come with the seventh stream. But there are other legends that say they can come to shore when the tides are right.”

Nicole thinks of all the times she’s seen Waverly come to shore. Always low tide when the wind was blowing in off the shore. When the water was calm and clear. Pieces fall into place around her, a larger picture coming together in her mind. 

“How long have you known?” Waverly asks after a long minute. 

Nicole looks away from the water. “How long have I known what?”

“Nicole,” Waverly says quietly.

Nicole could lie. She could pretend to be surprised. But she knows that Waverly knows. It’s all she’s been thinking about. Seeing Waverly there one minute and then a seal the next. Watching it slip gracefully through the waves.

“Not long,” she admits. “The other day, you left, and I… I didn’t mean to look. I-” She stops herself and loosens her grip on Waverly’s hand. “I’m sorry. You were upset and you told me not to follow you, so I didn’t, but I watched you from here. You… You disappeared and there was a-a-”

“A seal,” Waverly finishes. She lets her hand slip from Nicole’s. “You didn’t know before then?”

Nicole shakes her head. “No. I didn’t. I swear it.”

Waverly sighs softly and looks away from her, over the water. Nicole studies the line of her neck and the point of her chin. She looks at Waverly and tries to memorize her in this moment. She’s sure that Waverly is going to leave and she won’t come back. Or she’ll come back but only for Champ. It leaves a sour taste in Nicole’s mouth. It makes her want to reach out and pull all of her questions back. If she didn’t make Waverly tell her the story, they could have just existed together in the quiet. Waverly didn’t have to tell her secret. Nicole could have held onto it.

But Waverly takes her hand again and holds it, still quiet. Something loosens in Nicole’s chest, a breath she didn’t know she was holding. Nicole lets her eyes close and lets the feeling wash over.

“She was my mother,” Waverly whispers.

Nicole blinks. “I’m sorry?”

Waverly leans into Nicole’s side, dropping her head to Nicole’s shoulder. “The story your aunt told you. About the selkie she met who needed to getaway. The one who left her husband and her three daughters and the sea behind.” Waverly’s voice cracks. “She was my mother.”

“Waverly,” Nicole breathes. 

“I was little,” Waverly continues over her. “I didn’t really understand it, you know? One day she was there. And the next, she was gone. Daddy was so angry. He’s still angry. I always wondered where she went. I always wondered if she meant to leave us behind.” She coughs out a laugh. “It turns out, she did.”

Nicole presses her lips to Waverly’s forehead. “I’m so sorry. If I knew, I wouldn’t have told you.”

Waverly shakes her head. “It’s okay. In a way, I’m glad I know. At least she wasn’t hurt or taken captive. She got out. She got free.” She tips her head back and looks at Nicole, searching her face. “You gave me that, you know. If you hadn’t said anything, I would still be wondering.”

“I could find her,” Nicole says. “I know some people, lighthouse keepers. They could look around and-”

“No,” Waverly interrupts softly. “No. She didn’t want us to know.”

Nicole reaches up with her free hand, tracing the line of Waverly’s jaw. “I don’t need to know,” she says. Her voice is quiet, just filling the space between them. “I can pretend like I don’t know any of this. You can just be some cute tourist who loves the sea. And I can just be the lighthouse keeper you know.”

“I don’t think I want you to pretend you don’t know,” Waverly admits just as quietly. “I felt like I was hiding this huge thing from you and now it’s out there and it’s in the open and… And you didn’t run screaming.”

Nicole smiles a little. “I’m a lighthouse keeper, Waverly Earp. I’ve been hearing stories of sirens and mermaids and selkies for almost all of my life.

“But you don’t believe in those things.”

Nicole wets her lips. “I’m starting to believe that I was wrong.” Her eyes drop to Waverly’s mouth. “You… The way you talk about them, even before I knew who you were. It made me want to believe again.  _ You _ did that for  _ me _ .”

And then Waverly leans in, her lips against Nicole’s. Nicole’s eyes flutter closed, her hand coming up against Waverly’s face. Her fingers curl behind Waverly’s ear and she presses closer,  Waverly’s  bottom lip caught between hers. 

She’s been dreaming about this. She’s been dreaming of their hands touching and being brave enough to lean forward and just  _ kiss _ her. She’s laid in bed and stared at the ceiling and st in the living room and stared at the map on the wall and dreamed about this moment.

Waverly is softer than she imagined, her skin smoother under the rough pads of her fingertips. She kisses lighter. Their lips press together softly, warm. Waverly’s hand curls around Nicole’s arm, pulling her closer until Waverly is all that Nicole can feel, all that she can smell. There’s salt in the air and the waves breaking on the rocks and the lantern spinning and spinning above them and Waverly is  _ kissing _ her.

“Wait,” Nicole breathes against Waverly’s mouth. She pulls back, their foreheads resting together. She can feel her chest heaving. “You’re dating Champ.”

Waverly’s eyes drop to Nicole’s mouth. “I don’t want to be.”

Nicole eases back, smiling. She runs her hand down Waverly’s neck, fingers tangling in soft, drying hair. “But you re. And I don’t want this to start like that.”

Waverly looks back up with wide eyes. “This?” Her hand tightens on Nicole’s arm. “Even though you know I’m…”

Nicole leans forward, pressing her lips to Waverly’s forehead. She lingers there, eyes closed, and pulls back. “I don’t care about that.” A thought crosses her mind. “Does… Does Champ know?”

Waverly sags away, her hand dropping from Nicole’s arm. She sighs, leaning forward until her chin rests on the railing, and looks out over the water. “That’s why we’re, you know.”

Nicole moves closer, her hand finding Waverly’s easily. She lifts it, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. Understanding washes over her like a cold bucket of water. “That story, about the selkie and the man who takes her skin.”

“Not taken. Sold.”

“I’m sorry, what?” Nicole tugs Waverly away from the railing, turning her head until they’re looking at each other. “Did you say  _ sold _ ?”

Waverly sighs again. “I don’t know how much for. My Daddy and Champ worked out the details. All I know is that soon, we’re going to be married and he’ll have my skin. He’ll have me.” Her voice catches in her throat. “My mom loved me, you know. And when she left, Daddy was angry. Distant. And then Champ’s father found us one morning when we came to shore. Daddy saw an opportunity. Willa is his favorite. Nd Wynonna is too… Wynonna. But me…”

“Waverly,” Nicole breathes. “You can’t marry him. You can’t give him your skin.”

Waverly smiles sadly at her. “I have to. They’ve already exchanged money. Daddy would be furious with me if I even… Even coming here to see you is breaking so many rules. Willa will tell him I snuck out.”

“What’re they going to do with you?”

Waverly shrugs a shoulder. “Willa will probably come back with me the next time. They won’t trust me.”

Nicole shakes her head. “You don’t have to go back. You can stay here. Not… Not  _ with _ me,” she says, her cheeks flushing. “But you can sty in my room and I can sleep on the couch.” Her aunt’s untouched room crosses her mind, but she can’t. Not yet. “You don’t have to go back to them.”

Waverly looks out across the water. The sky is starting to lighten up on the fr horizon. It’s still a dark color but it’s starting to thin out. Nicole can see more clouds. “I have to go,” she says softly. “I do want to stay.”

“So stay,” Nicole says. She grabs Waverly’s hands tightly. “Stay.”

Waverly leans in, her forehead against Nicole’s cheek. “I’ll come back.” She smiles as she pulls back. “I’ll follow the light.”

Nicole follows her, kissing her softly. Waverly presses into her, a hand on her cheek. She lingers for a minute, breathing Waverly in before Waverly leans away, eyes closed. Waverly stands up, picking up her mug with one hand and reaching for Nicole’s with the other. Nicole follows her, into the lantern room and to her living quarters. She lets go to take off the thick, white sweater and put it on the couch but reaches for Nicole’s hand as they go down the stairs to the door. The air is cooler down here. They pick their way through the dark, the big lantern lighting the way as it spins around. 

They stop at the edge of the water, looking over the slick rocks. Waverly squeezes her hand. 

“I’ll come back,” Waverly says again. She takes a step closer to the water. Her hand starts to slip through Nicole’s. “Wait for me?”

Nicole doesn’t say it, but something in her chest shouts that she’d wait as long as Waverly wants her to.

Waverly lets go of her hand and walks into the water, edging over the rocks carefully s she heads towards the big rock. She slips behind it, looking back over her shoulder to smile at Nicole. Nicole sees nothing, hears nothing, but then there’s a small break in the waves and Nicole knows that it’s Waverly.

The light spins and catches something in the water. Nicole watches a seal come up to the surface, staring right at her. It dips back under the waves and comes up again, bobbing in the water. Nicole smiles and it dives down again, vanishing from sight. Nicole follows in the water as best she can, trying to find where it breaks the current.

She touches her finger to her lips and smiles, shaking her head.

She’ll keep the light burning. Waverly will come back.

-

Nicole keeps trying to wipe the sleep out of her eyes, but staying up until almost 3 in the morning with Wverkl is still taking its toll on her. She finishes the last of her fifth cup of coffee. She shouldn’t be drinking coffee this late at night, but she can’t go to bed at 6 pm if she wants to get back on any kind of schedule.

The landline rings and Nicole smiles.

“Hey, you,” she says into the phone.

Shae laughs on the other end of the line. “How did you know it was me?”

“Even telemarketers call my cellphone. Which, you know you have the number for.” She can picture Shae rolling her eyes. “You’re still the only person who calls me at this number.”

“I’m nothing if not consistent.”

“You’re the least consistent person I’ve ever met.” Nicole holds the phone between her ear and her shoulder, stretching out to grab her sandwich on the counter. “So, you’re calling. Finally coming back?”

Shae is quiet for a minute. “Actually, I’m not.”

Nicole frowns. “Like, at all?”

“I met someone.”

The feeling she always thought she would have when Shae would say something like this doesn’t come. She always thought she would feel some great loss; like something was going to be scooped out of her and she would feel less whole. But it doesn’t come. Happiness sparks in her chest instead.

“Someone finally got you to settle down, huh?” She hops up onto the counter, holding her sandwich in her lap. “Is she real, or is she… you know.”

“Sure, sure.” Shae laughs a little. “She’s very real., thank you very much. Her whole family is made up of fishermen, so me being out on the boat most of the season isn’t a problem for her. Makes reuniting that much better, huh?”

Nicole rolls her eyes. “Okay, Shae.”

Shae’s voice softens. “I think she might be it, Nicole. It’s just different, you know?”

Nicole thinks of Waverly. “Yeah, I know.”

“You’re always going to be special to me, Nicole Haught.”

Nicole smiles, eyes a little wet. “Same.”

Shae laughs. “That’s all you can say? Same?”

“What else do you want me to say?” Nicole rolls her eyes. “Do you want me to fly to you and declare my undying love?”

“That’d be a hell of a way to meet the future Mrs. Pressman,” Shae agrees. She clears her throat. “So, you. Tell me everything.”

Nicole is quiet for a minute. “I met someone too.”

Shae whistles into the line. “And you didn’t lead with that?”

“It’s…” Nicole searches for the word. “Complicated.”

“Uh oh.” Shae clicks her tongue. “That’s never good.”

Nicole sighs. “There’s this thing, with…” She sighs again. “With  _ Champ _ . But she doesn’t even want to be with him and it’s… It’s complicated.”

“Champ  _ Hardy _ ?”

Nicole winces. “I know. But it’s-”

“Complicated,” Shae finishes. “Yeah, you sid.” She pauses for a minute. “You like this girl?”

“A lot,” Nicole breathes. “And she likes me, too. I just… I haven’t felt this way about someone since…”

She can feel Shae’s grin. “Me. I  _ am _ unforgettable.”

Nicole rolls her eyes. “Sure, Shae.”

Shae sighs softly. “If you like this girl, you should go for it. What’s the worst that happens? You get shot down?”

_ I get shot down, Champ marries Waverly and hides her skin away _ , she thinks. She swallows hard against the idea of that.

“Yeah,” she says absently. “Yeah.”

“The Nicole Haught I know doesn’t back down from anything.  _ Especially _ not Chmp Hardy.”

Nicole nods. “You’re right.”

“I usually am,” Shae agrees. “Now, tell me more about my replacement.”

Nicole takes a deep breath in and knows what she needs to do. 

She needs to fight for Waverly.


	8. to see people through storms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Willa steps into her path and Nicole pulls her arm back against her chest. “Now, you listen to me. This is your _last_ warning.”

Nicole smiles as soon as she sees Waverly crest the ridge, one hand on her hip as she looks around. Nicole dusts her hands off on her shirt and takes off her hat, pushing her hair back before she puts it on again. “Hey,” she calls.

Waverly’s eyes swing towards her and she smiles. “Hey.”

Nicole takes a step forward but hovers there, unsure of what to do with her hands. She knows what she  _ wants _ to do. She wants to reach out and take Waverly by the wrist. She wants to pull her close. She wants to slide her hand to the back of Waverly’s neck and tip her head back. She wants to kiss her.

Waverly hangs in the in-between, bare feet leaving wet rocks behind. “Hey,” she says.

Nicole looks past Waverly’s shoulder. No one is climbing up behind. She deflates a little, relief rushing through her. “You’re here.”

Waverly’s smile flickers. “Is that okay?”

“Of course,” Nicole says quickly. She takes another step forward. Waverly matches her and Nicole smiles. “You can come whenever you want to.”

Waverly glances back over her shoulder. “I wish that were really true.”

Nicole looks past Waverly to the sea. It’s choppy today. There’s a storm coming. She can see it. “How long do you think we have?”

Waverly worries her bottom lip between her teeth. “Wynonna was going to cover for me. So, maybe an hour before I have to go back?”

“What will you tell them?” Nicole looks back at Waverly.

“An hour? I can tell them I went for a long swim.”

Nicole sighs. “I wish you didn’t have to lie.”

Waverly smiles sadly at Nicole. “I wish I didn’t have to either.”

Nicole doesn’t want to linger at this moment. She doesn’t want to talk about all of the things that press in on Waverly’s shoulders, like Champ or her dad. She wants to make Waverly smile and mean it. So she wipes her hand on her shirt again an finally reaches out, grabbing Waverly’s wrist lightly and tugging her forward. Their toes bump and Nicole sways in, her forehead brushing Waverly’s as she ducks her head.

“Hey,” Waverly says.

“You’re here.” Nicole thumbs the back of Waverly’s hand.

Waverly smiles wider now. “I am. I… I felt like I had to see you. Something inside me was-” She stops herself and shakes her head. “Is that weird?”

“No,” Nicole says quickly. “I’ve been thinking about you. Like, all the time.” It doesn’t feel foolish to say it out loud. She thought it might. She hardly knows Waverly Earp.  _ But maybe _ , she thinks.  _ Maybe I know just enough right now _ . 

Waverly pushes her hair off her shoulder, leaving small water droplets on her skin. Nicole reaches up with one hand brushes them away, fingers lingering there. Waverly shivers.

“Sorry,” Nicole says quickly, pulling her hand back.

Waverly catches it, her fingers lacing in Nicole’s. “Don’t be,” she says quietly.

They stand there in the sun for a minute, letting it beat down on Nicole’s neck. She smiles at Waverly and just takes her in. Her eyes, the slope of her lips, the stretch of her neck. She wants to memorize every detail she can so that when Waverly can’t come to shore, Nicole can think of her.  _ Or when Waverly is with Champ _ , a dark voice in her mind says.

Champ. Nicole’s chest tightens. She’s going to save Waverly from Champ. She is. She just needs to figure out what to do, first. She needs a plan. She can’t just corner him in the hardware store at Shorty’s and demand that he give it up. That he free Waverly of whatever promise her father made for her. But she can’t do that. She can’t do that Waverly. She needs to think smarter. 

Nicole blinks and shakes her head a little bit, coming back to herself. “Want to come up?”

Waverly brightens up. “Yes. I do.”

She leads the way this time, winding around the steps until they get to the lantern room. She stops at the small railing around the lantern, watching it spin soundlessly. Nicole greased the nuts and bolts the other day and it barely whispers as it goes around and around. She watches the light dance across Waverly’s face and stops to take it in. There’s a wonder there and something in her eyes. She soaks it in, filing under the things she wants to remember about Waverly.

Waverly finally looks away and smiles, slipping past Nicole to the gallery deck door. She slides out onto it easily, moving to one side so Nicole can join her. They sit side by side, shoulders, hips, knees, and ankles pressed together as they look over the sea. Waverly sighs just loud enough for Nicole to hear over the wind blowing gently around them. 

“I know I sound like a broken record, but I love it up here. The view is just… It’s  _ magical _ .

Nicole doesn’t take her eyes off Waverly. “Yeah, it is.”

Waverly smiles, leaning her head onto Nicole’s shoulder. “My problems feel so far away up here. Like if I don’t think about them, for just a moment, they don’t exist.”

“They don’t need to.” Nicole presses her lips to Wavery’s forehead. “Up here, we just can just… be.”

Waverly is quiet again, breathing in and out slowly. Nicole matches her. The sea seems to harmonize with them, in and out like the air in Nicole’s lungs.

“Who do you want to be?” Nicole asks, finally breaking their silence.

Waverly takes her hand, turning it over to trace the lines on Nicole’s palm. “I don’t know if I know the answer to that.”

“You don’t need to,” Nicole says.

“I used to want to be a bird.” Waverly snorts softly. “I love the water. It’s my home. And there’s so much to love below the surface. The different things you meet. It’s neverending. You can look and look and look and find something new every time you open your eyes. But…” She hesitates and lifts her head to look at Nicole. “There’s more than just under the water, isn’t there? Like, there’s more than one way to love it.”

Nicole nods. “Of course there is.”

Waverly smiles. Her hand turns over, curling around Nicole’s leg. “You love the water, too.”

“It’s my life,” Nicole says. She pauses. “But even if it wasn’t… I’ve always been drawn to it. I’ve always wondered about it. And when I moved here, I knew it was where I was supposed to be.”

“And now you have this lighthouse.” Waverly smiles. “Now you’re the lighthouse keeper.”

Something swells in Nicole’s chest. She’s only the lighthouse keeper because her aunt is gone. And it’s been months but something still cuts into her core when she thinks about it. Waverly’s hand in hers soothes it. Eases the ache.

Waverly lens up suddenly, her nose bumping against Nicole’s as their lips press together. She breathes in Nicole’s gasp. Nicole’s eyes flutter closed as Waverly pulls back, their lips still brushing together before she leans in again. Her hand is hot as it moves to Nicole’s neck, holding her close. Nicole presses into it, turning. Waverly’s mouth moves against hers and Nicole lets herself be led, ebbing and flowing in and out as Waverly kisses her.

“ _ Waverly Earp _ ,” someone shouts from below them. 

Waverly breaks the kiss and flinches. “Oh no,” she breathes, eyes wide. “Oh no.” She pushes out of Nicole’s arms, scrambling back on the deck. “It’s  _ Willa _ .”

Nicole feels something cold wash over and she shivers. Waverly is still pushing along the deck, grappling for the door back into the lantern room. Something shoots up, just missing Nicole’s head, and clatters against the glass window. A small rock lands on the deck.

“She’s… She’s  _ throwing  _ things,” Nicole says, surprised.

Another rock comes whizzing past her. Nicole scrambles back now, hitting the glass behind her as a rock cracks the glass just above her head. She follows Waverly, sliding into the lantern room gracelessly. She slams the door shut, the glass rattling in the frame.  _ The light _ . She has to protect the lantern. There’s another rock and another crack. She looks over her shoulder but Waverly is already in the stairwell, slipping down the wrought-iron steps. Nicole follows her on unsteady feet, trying not to wince as rocks hit the glass windows like gunfire.

She bursts out from the lighthouse just a step behind Waverly, coming to a sliding stop as Willa pulls her arm back and launches a rock into the air. She wheels around as she hears the gravel crunch under their feet, eyes blazing.

“I told him,” Willa says, pointing a finger angrily at Waverly. “I  _ told _ him that you’d be here.”

Nicole takes a step forward but Willa turns on her, pushing her back.

“You can’t help yourself, can you?” she spits. Nicole blinks. “You have to corrupt her. Turn her against her family.”

“Willa,” Waverly says weakly.

“Daddy can’t  _ wait _ to talk to you,” Willa breathes. “Wait until I tell him you came to shore without his permission and you saw  _ her _ .” She pulls her lips back in a smile that makes Nicole go cold. “Wait until I tell him you’re a… a  _ gay _ .”

“Hey,” Nicole says, finding her voice. She tries to straighten up, to make herself taller. She thinks she’s taller than Willa by an inch or so, but she feels impossibly small.

Willa turns back to glare at her. “She doesn’t belong here, with  _ you _ . She belongs with her family and with Champ.”

“I don’t want to-” Waverly snaps her mouth closed when Willa turns her head sharply.  “Willa, please.”

“We’re leaving, Waverly. Say goodbye to your little… friend.” She sneers. “You’re never going to see her again.”

Nicole looks at Waverly and the way she’s folding in on herself. That fight feeling comes back, settling in her stomach.  _ Protect her _ , it calls. She moves forward, coming up behind Waverly, but Waverly steps away, closer to Willa. “Waverly,” she says quietly.

Waverly looks back over her shoulder, eyes wet at the corners. “I’m sorry, Nicole.”

Nicole takes another step closer. “You don’t have to go with her. You can stay here.” She lifts an arm, reaching out for Waverly.

Willa steps into her path and Nicole pulls her arm back against her chest. “Now, you listen to  _ me _ . You are going to leave her alone. You won’t find her. You won’t talk to her.” She steps forward, pushing Nicole back. “If you see her, you’re going to turn around and go the other way. No more interrupting us at Shorty’s. No more  _ romantic _ nights up in that stupid lighthouse.” She leans in, her teeth bared. “This is your  _ last _ warning.”

Nicole swallows hard.

Willa turns sharply on her heel and grabs at Waverly, pulling her close into her side. “Let’s go. Our boat is waiting.”

Nicole knows it’s not. She knows they’re going to go around the big rock and leave their clothes behind, sliding into their pelts before the slip into the water. But she can’t tell Willa she knows. She can’t do that to Waverly. So she stays where she is and watches helplessly as Willa pulls Waverly across the gravel and towards the drop. She can hear their feet on the loose rocks that lead down to the sandy shore. If she closes her eyes and listens hard, she can hear the sound of water lapping at their ankles. 

She imagines Waverly pulling off her shorts and tossing them into the water. She blinks hard against the image. Her feet sliding in the gravel as she rushes towards the ledge. She comes up short before she falls off it, immediately spotting the two shapes in the water. They streak through the surface, faster than Nicole has ever seen anything move before. She tries to follow them but she loses them in a swell and then they’re gone. Vanished into the deep blue.

Nicole feels something hollow in the center of her chest, drowned out by the fear of Willa’s words in her stomach. 

-

The town alarm is sharp and sudden. 

Nicole drops her book, “The Soul of an Octopus” by Sy Montgomery, to the floor, already kicking off her slippers. She grabs her jacket off the hook and her boots, taking the steps down two at a time. Her feet slide on the gravel and she hits her truck hard, her hip already aching. The engine turns over after too long, sputtering to life with a groan.

Her headlights cut through the dark, showing a long stretch of road. She can see down to the docks from here. It’s lit up like Independence Day, bright lights in the sky. Sirens cut through the sound of her tires on the loose asphalt as she turns onto Main Street. The dock is further down, vehicles already piling up in the parking lot. Cars idle, doors open. Trucks hum with their lights still on, beams aimed towards the water.

Nicole screeches to a stop, throwing her truck into park without turning it off. Her jacket billows open behind her as she weaves through the abandoned vehicles, trying to find someone in the crowd.

“Chrissy!”

She dodges Cecil Wright Jr., almost clipping him with an elbow. She ducks under Jeremy Chetri’s outstretched arm as he gestures to someone behind her. She slides in the gravel, grabbing for Chrissy.

“Nicole,” Chrissy sobs.

Nicole holds her up, eyes scanning her face and neck. She pulls Chrissy in, hugging her tightly. “Who is it? What happened?”

Chrissy cries out again. Her arm slips out from Nicole’s, pointing down towards the water.

Nicole turns. There’re too many people to see clearly. Too many lights and sirens get in her wy. People shout over each other. The Black Badge office is lit up, lights blazing in the windows, the door wide open as people stream in and out of it. An EMT hurries by her, the stretcher bouncing on the loose gravel. 

“It’s Cooper’s,” someone shouts at them. 

Chrissy shakes in her arms.

“Chrissy,” Nicole tries. “Chrissy, was Perry out there?” Chrissy only looks up at her with wide, wet eyes. “Where is he? Did he get off the boat?”

“Make a hole!” someone yells.

Nicole pulls Chrissy back out of the way.  They stumble a little, but Nicole holds Chrissy upright, her fingers digging hard into Chrissy’s arms.

Another stretcher comes by, Bryce Cooper strapped down to it. His arm is mangled and bloody. His wrist hangs at a funny angle. There’s a large cut on his forehead, blood dripping down his face and into his eyes. He groans as they pass, head lolling back and forth. Mr. Cooper is hurrying behind him, limping as he tries to keep up with them. There’s a tear in his pants, the wound red and raw.

Nicole looks around desperately. She can see Mr. Nedley standing up at the building, running his hand through his hair as he scans the crowd. He meets Nicole’s eyes and looks t Chrissy, his face falling. He tries to push through the people between them, but they swell like an angry sea and she loses him. She holds Chrissy tighter and scans the dock, trying to find anyone who can tell her what happened.

A paramedic, Scoot Jordan, flies by her and she grabs for him with one hand. “What happened?”

Scoot shrugs her off. “Cooper’s boat was attacked.” He disappears into the crowd. 

Chrissy sobs into her again. Nicole lifts her up a little, her arm curled around Chrissy’s shoulder. She tries to hold her tighter, but she’s not sure that she can. Chrissy is heavy in her arms. 

Another stretcher pushes through the crowd. A voice cuts through the frenzied noise around them. 

“Chrissy!” Perry shouts, voice hoarse. 

Chrissy looks up, eyes wild.

A stretcher gets closer, but Perry isn’t on that one. Nicole swings around, trying to find him. 

“Chrissy,” he yells again.

Another stretcher comes by and Perry is there, shrunken into the bed, strapped down as he goes over the loose gravel. He reaches out weakly, wincing as his arm falls back at his side. 

Chrissy sobs out his name and grabs for him, holding his face carefully in her hands. “Perry.”

He shushes her, pressing his forehead into hers. “I’m here. I’m here.”

The leg of his pants is torn off, a ragged cut into the fabric. His skin is shredded, blood pooling under his knee, and staining the white cotton sheet. There’s the end of a bone poking out from his wound, a smooth, white bulb-like femur. He grimaces as someone bumps into Drew Todd, the paramedic, and the stretcher skips over a rock. Chrissy’s hands flit down Perry’s chest and his neck, eyes searching his face.

“I’m fine,” Perry says, even as he inhales raggedly. “I’m okay.”

“It’s a break,” Drew adds. “Looks clean. We’re going to take him up to the hospital. They’ll do the assessment and see if he needs to be sent out to the city,” he tells them. 

Chrissy nods, swallowing back another cry. 

Perry sags back against the pillow. “I’m okay,” he promises.

“I’ll meet you there.” Chrissy starts patting her coat down, searching for her keys.

Nicole looks at Perry and catches Chrissy’s hands, holding them tightly. “I’ll drive you.”

“Nicole, I-”

“I’ll drive you,” Nicole repeats. She meets Perry’s eyes again and nods. “We’ll meet you there.”

Perry nods back, his eyes fluttering closed. 

Drew looks impatiently between them. “We gotta go, Haught.”

Nicole tugs Chrissy back a step, her hand still clutching Perry’s. It hangs there for a minute before Chrissy lets go. Drew grips the side of the stretcher and pulls it through the crowd to the last of the waiting ambulances. Nicole can see most of the crew up there, either in an ambulance or starting to pull out of the lot. The crowd swells around them. Other fishermen linger, wringing their hats in their hands. Wives circle around them in their slippers. A few kids sit huddled up on the rock wall near the ramp. It seems like almost everyone heard the alarm and came running.

“There’s a body,” Nicole hears in a hushed whisper. It snakes its way through the crowd like wildfire. People are still shouting down at the dock, calling for help as they clear the fishermen from the boat. It rocks violently, already slipping under the water. The mast is mangled, hanging brokenly. Someone is unloading the haul as quickly as they can, dumping it into mismatched coolers.

Someone near Nicole says it again. “There’s a body.”

The noise from the dock fades away. Quiet falls over them as another stretcher comes up from the docks, slower than the rest. People step back, clearing a path. The sirens from the ambulances fade out as they get further away and Nicole can hear the whispers and the sound of the water against the boats. The stretcher comes closer, weighed down by the body zipped carefully into a coroner’s bag. 

A single, wailing cry cuts through the near-quiet.

Nicole looks up at the office. Alison Miller collapses in Nedley’s arms, her weight bringing him to his knees.

“It’s Josh,” someone near Nicole whispers.

“Seals,” someone else says.

Nicole looks up sharply. She finds Jimmy Byers behind her, his beady eyes wild. 

“Seals,” he repeats. “Cooper said so before they took his boy up to the ambulance. He said he’s never seen anything like it before. They went wild, crashing into the side of the boat. A whole group of them.”

“Seals,” Nicole says, her throat tight with a growing knot of understanding.

Jimmy nods. “Have you ever heard of  _ seals _ attacking a boat?” He wrings his hands nervously. “Boat is lost. Cooper’ll have to get a whole new one. Don’t think they can repair it.” 

A heavy hand comes down on Jimmy’s shoulder. Doc pushes a flask into Jimmy’s hands and he takes it greedily, sighing when he takes a sip of whiskey. 

“It is a tragedy,” Doc says in a quiet voice.

Chrissy shifts in her hold. “Nicole.”

Nicole startles. “We’re going.” She pats down her pockets until she remembers she left her truck running at the top of the lot. 

_ Seals _ , she thinks as she leads Chrissy through the lingering crowd.  _ Seals _ , she thinks as she passes Alison Miller, still on the ground and wailing out her husband’s name.

She gets Chrissy in the truck and points it towards the hospital, gripping Chrissy’s hand and her other on the wheel. She speeds through town, racing against the other cars with the same idea.

_ Seals _ .

-

Nicole puts down the wrench and wipes a hand across her forehead, making a face at how damp her skin is. The sun is hot today, streaming in through the glass windows of the lantern room. She replaced them all a day ago after she drove Perry home from his overnight hospital stay. 

It kept her busy. She split her time fitting them in the frame and looking down at the docks. Cooper’s boat is still half under the water, just the broken mast and dome of the hull visible. They’ll get a boom in the next few days to lift it up and out of the water. Probably bring it down to the graveyard, Pine Barrens, and leave it to rest.

Today there’s a memorial service at the docks, flowers lining the ramp. There’s a red and white life preserver ring hanging off the end of it. She knows Josh’s name is stenciled on it.

She turns the lantern back on and listens to the quiet hum it makes as it spins. The room is stifling now that she’s slowed down, so she throws open the gallery deck door and breathes in deeply as the breeze finds her. Her chest expands and it feels good in her lungs. 

She hears a voice drift up and she grins.

Nicole takes the stairs two at a time, stopping in her kitchen to down a cup of cold water. She checks her reflection in her toaster oven, frowning as she notices the odd angle some of her hair sticks out in. It’ll have to do. She bursts out from the lighthouse, stopping herself short to wipe down her hands and take a deep, stedying breath.

She sees Waverly and her smile widens.

Waverly shakes her head quickly and Nicole pauses, frowning. She looks back over her shoulder at the ledge and then at Nicole again, eyes wide in fear.

_ Shit _ , Nicole thinks.  _ It must be Willa _ . 

Nicole squares her shoulders. Willa isn’t going to make her feel small again. She isn’t going to make  _ Waverly _ feel small, either. 

But a tall, thin man crests the ledge instead, running a hand through his hair as he looks around.

Waverly shakes her head again and Nicole ducks out of sight, behind her truck.

“Well,” the man says. “Your sister seemed very interested in telling me something about this lighthouse.”

“I don’t know why, Daddy,” Waverly says. Her voice is quiet, just loud enough for it to reach Nicole’s ears.

Waverly’s dad laughs, low and dark. “Don’t be stupid, girl. She already told me.”

Nicole presses flat against her truck. 

“She told you,” Waverly asks in that same small voice. 

Nicole can’t hear anything for a long minute. She peeks her head around the bed of the truck. Waverly’s dad is pacing back and forth, looking up at the lighthouse and back at Waverly.

“Your little friend keeps getting in our way,” he finally says. “Now, I don’t know who this girl thinks she is, but she’s a nuisance. We have a deal, Waverly Earp. And it’s not with whoever this woman is.”

“Daddy, I-”

“I’m not done,” he snaps.

Nicole feels a surge of anger rush through her, tingling in her fingertips. She wants to go out there and tell Ward exactly what she thinks of him and his stupid deal. But when she peeks her head around the truck again, she meets Waverly’s eyes. Waverly looks back at her, her face red and her eyes wide. She shakes her head a little when her dad looks out across the water and Nicole moves back against the truck, her chest rising and falling as she tries to calm herself down.

“You’re not to see this woman again. You don’t need friends. You have  _ family _ .” His voice softens. Nicole hers the gravel crunch under his feet. “Honey, listen to me. I know what’s best for us, what’s best for you. Champ is a good man. He’s going to treat you right.”

_ Champ _ . Nicole’s anger rises up again. She hears Waverly take a deep breath, but she says nothing.

“Now, be a good girl. Were going to go see Champ and you’re going to stay away from lighthouse from now on. Do you understand me?”

Waverly is quiet.

“That’s what I like to hear.” Waverly’s dad sounds proud of himself. It makes Nicole’s blood boil under the surface. “Champ is expecting us. We should hurry. Don’t want to keep your boyfriend waiting, do we?”

Nicole looks again just to see Waverly’s dad put a hand on her shoulder. Waverly winces slightly under his touch but steps closer when he seems to pull her in. Nicole watches her set her mouth in a firm line, eyes clear now. She walks with her dad the way she walks with Willa, small against his side. 

Nicole dips around the bed of the truck as they get closer to it, flattening herself between the side of it and the base of the lighthouse. She inhales and holds her exhale in her lungs. She can hear them walking. The footsteps pause at her truck, just on the other side of the cab.

A lighthouse keeper,” Waverly’s dad says. He scoffs. “Honestly, Waverly. Couldn’t you make friends with someone more…  _ important  _ than that? 

Waverly stays quiet.

They start walking again and Nicole breathes out slowly, as quietly as she can. She stays there, pressed against the lighthouse until their footsteps start to fade. She eases around the front of the truck, watching the two figures disappear s they get farther away. 

She hates him. The thought takes the air out of her lungs for a moment. She hasn’t ever really hated anyone in her life. She hasn’t liked a lot of people. She hasn’t liked Champ, for sure. But this hate is visceral and it cuts through her so quickly that she nearly doubles over. 

She  _ hates _ him. 

Her hand clenches into a fist. She’s going to right into town and she’s going to go give him a piece of her mind. She’s going to grab Waverly and take her back home and keep her away from her family.  _ Not Wynonna _ , she thinks. Wynonna seems different than Willa or their father.  _ But Willa and their father… _ Nicole shudders at the thought of them. 

She doesn’t realize she’s in her truck until she tries to turn the keys in the ignition. They’re still upstairs, hanging on the sailboat hook that’s always been there. She sighs and rests her head against the steering wheel. She knows what she told herself. She was going to let Waverly handle her own problems. She didn’t want to be that person, putting herself into a situation where she doesn’t need to be. But something about Waverly’s dad makes her change her mind. 

She wanted to fight for Waverly. 

Now she’s sure she has to.

Someone knocks on her window and she jumps, her hand against her chest.

Wynonna looks at her, wincing a little.  _ Sorry _ , she mouths.

Nicole gets out of the truck, taking slow, measured breaths. 

Wynonna leans against the hood, her wet hair curling around her shoulders. “Waves come by?”

Nicole scowls. Her heart starts to race for another reason. “With your dad.”

Wynonna’s face darkens. “Ward,” she says bitterly. “What a gem.”

“Something like that,” Nicole grumbles. She looks past Wynonna to the water. “What’re you doing here?”

Wynonna puffs out her chest a little. “I have a date with that cowboy friend of yours.”

“Oh,” Nicole says slowly. “And you decided to take a swim before that?”

“Come on.” Wynonna rolls her eyes. “Waverly told me that you know. She won’t shut up about you, actually.”

The anger fades out and leaves something soft behind. “Really?”

Wynonna heaves a sigh. “Duh. I have to  _ beg _ her to stop talking about the  _ ‘perfect lighthouse keeper who just knows so much about the water’ _ .” She points a finger at Nicole. “I’m telling you. You’re starting to lose your appeal to me. Honestly. Getting her to talk about  _ anything _ else at this point would be a win for all of us.”

Nicole can’t stop her small smile. “She talks about me.”

Wynonna groans. “Don’t get weird about it.” She fingers a necklace around her throat. “He giving her a hard time?”

Nicole scowls now. “Is he always like that with her?”

“Yes,” Wynonna sighs. “Since my mom left, he…” She trails off and shrugs a shoulder, looking way. “I can’t make excuses for him.”

“So don’t.” Nicole runs her hand through her hair and takes a step closer, lowering her voice. “Champ is an ass. He doesn’t deserve her. She’s worth more than whatever he’s paying.”

Wynonna looks at her for a long moment. “So, she really did tell you everything.”

Nicole ignores that. “How do we get her out of it.”

Wynonna shakes her head. “We can’t. It’s done.”

“It’s not,” Nicole insists. “It doesn’t have to be.”

Wynonna sighs softly. “Listen, lady. Do you think that if I knew a way to get her out of this, I would be waiting to go through with it? I don’t like it any more than you do. I probably hate it more than you.” Nicole wonders if that’s true. “But Ward is… He’s in charge. He’s always been in charge. I can’t change that.”

Nicole shakes her head. “I don’t believe it. I won’t.”

Wynonna gives her a small smile. “Trust me. If I could, I would. I just don’t know how.” She looks back towards the road leading to town. “I’ll tell her, though. That you asked about her. She’ll like that.” 

Nicole watches her walk the same path that Waverly and Ward did. She doesn’t watch Wynonna disappear though, turning sharply on her heel and storming back into the lighthouse. She walks up to the gallery deck and sits on the edge, imagining Waverly sitting beside her, pointing out something on the horizon, telling her a story about it. She can almost hear Waverly laughing. She lets the wind sting her eyes and she swallows back the frustration building in her chest. 

_ Wynonna has to be wrong _ , she thinks. 

_ There has to be a way. _

-

Nicole frowns at the envelope taped to her door, her name in looping letters on it. She shifts her groceries into one hand, plucking it off the door, putting it between her teeth, and goes upstairs. She toes her shoes off at the door, kicking them blindly in the direction of the shoe mat she has. She puts down her groceries and pulls the envelope out of her mouth, dropping it on the counter.

She forgets about it as she puts away groceries. She doesn’t think about it when she goes up the lantern room just to give it a look over. She doesn’t remember it's here when she starts making dinner, chopping veggies, and stirring the sauce on the stove. She throws a dishtowel on it and doesn’t notice the corners of it getting wet.

In the morning, she sighs at the towel and hangs it on the small hook by the sink. The letter looks back up at her.

She frowns at it again. Her name looks funny scrawled out like that. Long, looping cursive letters. She hasn’t seen cursive in a long time. But there’s her name. A high ‘n’ and a low ‘e’. She picks it up carefully, turning it over in her hand. There’s not a  _ from _ label on it. Just a sealed envelope with her name on it.

She slides a thumb under the small flap she can find and pulls, tearing the envelope enough for her to see the piece of paper inside of it.

_ Dear Ms. Haught _ , it starts.

She reads it over, frowning as she gets to Mr. Cryderman’s signature at the bottom.

He still wants to buy the lighthouse.

She shakes her head and tosses the letter onto the kitchen table. It’s still not for sale. She thought she made that pretty clear. 

Later when she’s cleaning off the table before Chrissy comes over for dinner, she sweeps it into the bills pile and puts it on the small hutch by the door. 

She forgets about it.


	9. lived to guard that guiding light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The sea roils a little today, harder than yesterday. _A storm is coming,_ she thinks. _It’s not too far_ now.

Nicole turns down the radio, Fleetwood Mac’s “Silver Springs” coming to an end as she pulls up alongside the lighthouse, parking between it and Chrissy’s car. It’s been a few days since the attack on the boat and she’s finally letting Perry out of her sight for a few hours at a time. 

She looks down towards the docks. There’s still the memorial set up for Josh Miller at the end of them, right where Mr. Cooper’s boat used to be parked. The larger pieces of it had been pulled out of the water and dry-docked at the boat graveyard. They announced it the other day. The Cooper’s are done for the season.

The groceries on the bench seat can wait for now. It’s just simple things, nothing refrigerated, so she leaves them there and slides out of the truck, pocketing the keys. She looks around but she doesn’t see Chrissy anywhere. She shrugs. She probably let herself in and is going through Nicole’s cabinets. Probably cataloging all of the things Nicole is missing, making her a list.  _ Chrissy Nedley’s Essentials for Living _ , she had called it once.

So she grabs her groceries and hoists them into her arms, heading upstairs. The door is unlocked when she opens it and she grins, already calling Chrissy’s name. She pulls up short. 

Chrissy smiles back from the table, her arm outstretched as she hands Waverly a cup of tea. 

“Waverly,” Nicole breathes

Chrissy smiles wider. “Nicole.” She points at herself. “Chrissy. Now we’ve all met each other.”

Waverly lifts her tea to her mouth, her eyes shy. “I’m sorry. Chrissy said it would be fine if-”

“It is,” Nicole says quickly. She puts down her groceries on the counter and nods. “It totally is.”

Chrissy clears her throat. “Waverly was just telling me how she knows you.”

Waverly shifts a little in her seat. “Right. We met-”

“The water,” Nicole interrupts again. “She swam to shore from her… the boat she was on. I saved her.”

“You did not save me.”

“I saved you,” Nicole repeats.

Waverly sits up taller. “I didn’t need to be saved. I think I specifically said ‘No, I’ve got it’.”

Nicole shakes her head. “You were stuck in the rocks. One good wave would have taken you right down.”

Waverly smiles. “I’m a good swimmer.”

Nicole just looks at her, smiling softly. She knows Chrissy is staring at her, but she doesn’t care. She takes Waverly in. Her long legs are curled up underneath her, Nicole’s sweater pulled down over her wrists, hands curled around her mug of tea. Her hair is damp at the ends, resting along her shoulders. For a second, there’s no one else in the room.

“Right, well,” Chrissy says loudly. “I can tell when I’m being the third wheel.”

Nicole’s cheeks burn. “No, you’re not.”

Chrissy stares at her and then rolls her eyes. “Have I told you that you’re a terrible liar.”

“No.”

Chrissy points a finger at her. “Yeah, see? That’s what I mean.” She stands up, taking one last sip of her tea. “Waverly, it was nice to meet you. Don’t let Nicole hide you away in this lighthouse, like some kind of prisoner. There’s a life outside of this place. And things outside of the water.”

Waverly’s cheeks flush and she ducks her head, looking into her tea.

Chrissy walks by Nicole to the sink, putting her mug down. “Get some fresh air, okay? You’re looking a little… pale.”

Nicole swats at Chrissy’s shoulder. “Get out of here.”

“Bye, Waverly,” Chrissy says, ignoring her. She slips out the door and down the steps, the bottom door closing with a soft  _ whoosh _ . 

Nicole leans back against the counter, her hands curling around the edge.

Waverly is still looking down into her tea, swirling the mug gently in her hand. She finally looks up after a minute, a soft smile on her face. “Hi.”

Nicole smiles back. “Hi.”

“I’m sorry for just barging in here. I didn’t think-”

“I’m glad you’re here,” Nicole says over her. 

Waverly stops, looking at her. “I missed you,” she says after a minute.

Nicole sighs, her chest warm with a feeling she doesn’t want to put a name to just yet. “I missed you too,” she admits.

“It’s only been, like, two days. Is that silly?”

Nicole shakes her head. “I don’t think so.” Her mouth sours when she thinks about the last time she saw Waverly. “Your dad…”

Waverly looks around quickly before her eyes settle back on Nicole. “He’s my dad.”

“He can’t just do that, you know.” Anger surges in her. “He can’t.”

“He did it,” Waverly says. She sounds as resigned as Wynonna did the other day. “He’s-”

“In charge,” Nicole finishes. She rubs a hand through her hair. “Yeah, I know.”

Waverly puts her tea down, pushing it into the center of the table. She stands up slowly, pulling the ends of Nicole’s sweater down over her hands. Her head is tipped to one side as she walks to Nicole, her smile soft. “We don’t have to talk about him,” she says carefully.

He’s there, hanging over them. Nicole can still hear the anger in his voice, the harsh tone of his voice echoing around her. She can feel his hatred. He looms large in her mind. She should do something about him. She should figure something out. She should lead Waverly back to the table and sit her down and start to hatch a plan that will get Waverly out from under his hand. 

But Waverly reaches out and pulls the hem of Nicole’s t-shirt towards her. Nicole smiles, her hand sliding to the back of Waverly’s neck, tipping her head back.

“I missed you,” Waverly says again. “I know we haven’t known each other for…” She trails off, blinking. “It doesn’t seem to matter for me.”

“It doesn’t matter for me, either,” Nicole admits. It’s so easy to say it. So easy to tell the truth. Maybe because she’s sure she’s never felt this way. It feels something entirely different than it did with Shae. 

Waverly closes the distance, lifting on her tiptoes to kiss Nicole on the mouth. One of Nicole’s hand slides around Waverly’s waist, holding her closer. Waverly makes a noise in the back of her throat, her grip on Nicole’s shirt tightening for a minute before her hand goes flat against Nicole’s stomach. It makes Nicole’s breath catch for a moment. 

She steps forward, turning Waverly in a slow circle until she’s pressed back against the counter. She kisses Waverly slow and soft, lingering. Waverly’s hand slides to her waist and presses, hot under the cotton of her shirt. Her tongue brushes fleetingly against Nicole’s lips. Nicole’s mouth falls open, her kiss messier than before. She lets her hand drift along Waverly’s waist, her fingertips brushing against the soft skin just below the hem of the shorts she’s wearing.

Waverly is kissing her harder now, mouth open under Nicole’s. Nicole curls her hand under Waverly’s thighs, lifting until she can feel the edge of the counter against them. She steps in close to Waverly, feeling her legs lock around Nicole’s waist. It pulls a groan from somewhere in Nicole’s chest. She works her hands up Waverly’s back and into the ends of her damp hair. She twists the strains of it around her fingers, Waverly moving against her. She tries to pull Waverly closer but there’s no space between them now.

Nicole pulls back, mouth moving to Waverly’s neck. She kisses her way along Waverly’s jawline, her teeth nipping at the soft skin there. Waverly’s hand clutches the back of her shirt, twisting it into a wrinkled mess before sliding into her hair. Nicole moves back up, kissing Waverly hard until her lips part. Her tongue slides into Waverly’s mouth and she sighs. 

She hears Waverly groan and something in her twists hard at the sound. She presses a little harder into her kisses, her hands on Waverly’s thighs now, fingertips just under the hem of her shorts. 

She stops, panting, and presses her forehead to the hollow of Waverly’s throat. She can hear Waverly breathing hard above her and she leans back up, kissing Waverly softly. Their kisses slow, turning into lazy presses of their mouths as Waverly works her hand out of Nicole’s hair, smoothing her thumbs over the flats of Nicole’s cheeks. 

“Wow,” Waverly breathes.

“Wow,” Nicole echoes. She takes Waverly’s hand and presses it to her own chest, her hand resting on top of Waverly’s. “Do you feel that?”

Waverly laughs softly. “That’s so fast.”

It is. It feels like she’s having heart palpitations. Like she’s moving too fast down a steep hill and she can’t stop. Waverly looks at her with wide, open eyes, and Nicole lets go of the brakes. She kisses Waverly one more time, her eyes closed.

Waverly is smiling at her when she opens them again. “Hi.”

Nicole snorts softly. “Hey.” She taps her fingers down the length of Waverly’s thigh. “So, you met Chrissy.”

“Oh, just barely.” Waverly hooks her hands around the back of Nicole’s neck, her thumbs against warm skin. “She knew who I was.”

Nicole winces. “I mean, she knows that I-” She stops and smiles a little. “She saw me talking to you at Shorty’s that night.” Champ’s sour smile comes to her mind and she nearly gags at the thought of it. Her arm aches where Willa had taken it. “I told her how I… I told her that I like you.”

Something flashes in Waverly’s eyes for a moment before it flickers out. “You like me?”

“Oh,” Nicole says softly. “I mean, Yeah. I did. I thought you-”

“I hoped,” Waverly cuts in.

Nicole smiles softly. She flattens her hands against Waverly’s thighs. “Well, I do.”

Waverly looks at her for a long moment, eyes roaming Nicole’s face without any real purpose. “I like you, too,” she says finally.

“I hoped.”

Waverly smiles widely. “Good.” She sighs softly and drops her head until it rests on Nicole’s shoulder. Her hair flutters against Nicole’s lips. “I wish I didn’t like you as much as I do,” she admits.

“Oh,” Nicole breathes.

Waverly sits up suddenly. “Not because-” She sighs. “It’s complicated. With liking you and… Champ.”

Nicole’s hands tighten on Waverly’s thighs. “Champ.”

Waverly sighs again. “It’s not as simple as you think it is, Nicole.”

She wants to argue. She wants to rail against it. She wants to tell Waverly that she’s wrong and it  _ is _ simple. But she stops and forces herself to take a deep breath. She can’t tell Waverly she’s not doing a good enough job trying to fight this. It’s not her place. She doesn’t know all of the circumstances, she tells herself. But she wants to. 

“Can’t we do anything?” she asks Waverly instead.

Waverly shakes her hed slow.y “I’ve been trying to think of things to do, but I can’t come up with anything. There was money and a deal and Daddy always keeps his deals.”

Nicole presses her lips together. “What if you talked to him? Or-or maybe you can convince Willa to-” She stops at the look on Waverly’s face. She sighs. “Yeah.”

“I like you,” Waverly says again, leaning in. She presses her forehead to Nicole’s. “And if it could be different… If things were different, I would…”

Nicole shushes her gently. “I get it. I just… There has to be something we can come up with.”

Not just because she likes Waverly. Not just because she wants Waverly to leave Champ and be with her.  _ Sure _ , she thinks.  _ Sure, I want that _ . But more than that, she can’t believe in a world that allows people to sell off other people. She can’t believe in people who do that. But life can be unfair. It takes from people. It took her aunt, long before it should have. It gives people like Champ a chance to get ahead in the world, no matter who he steps on to get there. 

Waverly’s lips dust her cheek as she sits back, her head against the cabinet. “We don’t have long,” she admits.

“Now?” Nicole asks. “Or, like, all together.”

“Both,” Waverly says sadly. “It took a lot to convince Daddy to let me come to shore alone again. I’m supposed to be meeting Champ.”

“He’s at the rodeo today,” Nicole says. She watched his truck leave town this morning.

Waverly smiles, her eyes sparkling. “I know that. But Daddy doesn’t.”

It pulls an unexpected laugh up out of Nicole’s throat. She smiles back at Waverly and her chest swells with warmth.  _ It’s too soon to be feeling like this _ , she thinks. But she feels like she’s known Waverly her whole life. And so it doesn’t feel too strange to be feeling this way at all. 

Waverly’s smile flickers. “But also…” She wets her lips. “I only have about a week until I move to shore permanently.”

The warmth in Nicole’s chest goes cold. It ices in her veins. “A week,” she repeats.

“ _ About _ a week,” Waverly corrects. “One week and two days, to be exact.”

“And then…”

Waverly’s shoulders drop. “And then my dad gives Champ my pelt to keep.”

Nicole runs her fingers over Waverly’s skin, imagining the smooth fur of Waverly’s pelt. “It’s hidden right now.”

Waverly nods. “In a secret spot. Not even Willa knows where.” She presses her mouth into a thin line, her eyes narrowed.”She’d give it to him now if she could. She doesn’t… She doesn’t like me very much.”

“I don’t like her very much,” Nicole counters.

Waverly leans closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. “Neither do I.” She sighs and leans back again. “But she’s my sister. And she’s Daddy’s favorite.”

“What about Wynonna?” Nicole starts to perk up. “Can’t she do anything?” She remembers Wynonna’s resignation the other day. She knows it’s a longshot.

Waverly shakes her head sadly. “She wants to. But Daddy is… He’s Daddy.” She says it like Nicole knows what it should mean. And maybe she does. A little. But she never had a dad, not really, and she doesn’t know why someone would care so much about one who isn’t a good one. “He blames her, you know. For my mom leaving. Wynonna can be… difficult. And he blames her,  _ us _ , for Mama leaving. Wynonna takes it to heart, sometimes.”

Nicole takes a deep breath. She thinks it should be easy. That Ward is not a nice man and it’s not that hard to just leave him behind in the waters. But she tells herself that it’s got to be more complicated than that. That she doesn’t know all of the pieces. 

It doesn’t stop her from wanting to know them.

“I still want to do something” she admits.

Waverly smiles softly. “I know you do.”

“I’m going to think of something.”

“Okay,” Waverly whispers. She presses her forehead against Nicole’s again, her eyelashes fluttering against Nicole’s. “But for right now, do you think we could just spend the day together?”

Nicole’s mouth turns up into a sad smile. “Of course we can. We can do anything you want. Go anywhere you want. There’s St. Johns Fortress not too far from here. We could drive down the coast and check it out. We went on a class field trip when I was in elementary school.”

Waverly turns her head, her lips against Nicole’s cheek. “Or maybe we could just stay here. I love it here, in the lighthouse. It feels like, in a different life, this could be my home.”

_ It could be _ , Nicole thinks.

She eases back from the counter, out of Waverly’s legs. She flips the kettle back on, heating up the water. She empties Waverly’s mug, pulling down two new teabags. Waverly slips off the counter, landing on her tiptoes. She pulls the sleeves of Nicole’s sweater down over her hands as she wanders around the room, stopping at the long bookshelf along the wall by the door. It’s filled to the brim with books her aunt read, books her aunt wanted to red. She watches Waverly trace the spines of the books with a trailing fingertip. 

Waverly pauses in front of one, pulling it off the shelf and holding it in her hands. She turns it over carefully, reading the back cover. Nicole thinks she knows which one it is. A book she didn’t dare touch when she found out about Waverly. It felt like a betrayal, somehow. 

_ The People of the Sea _ , it says. 

“Celtic Tales of Sea Folk,” Waverly reads out loud. She looks up at Nicole. “You already knew?”

Nicole shakes her head. “My aunt read it to me when I was younger. I haven’t touched it in years.”

Waverly looks back at the cover, tracing a finger over the tails sticking out of the water. “I wonder what it says.”

The kettle whistles and Nicole turns it off, pouring the steaming water into two new mugs. The teabags bob in the cup like buoys out in the sea. “We can read it,” she offers. She holds both mugs in her hand, nodding towards the front door. “Bring it with us.”

Waverly holds the book tight to her chest, following silently after Nicole as they climb the winding stairs up to the lantern room. She lets herself onto the gallery deck as if she’s done it a thousand times before, reaching back to take the mugs from Nicole as she hoists herself out of the glass door. They sit on the deck, legs hanging over the edge. Nicole curls her hands around her mug, soaking in the warmth against the cool afternoon breeze coming off the sea. It roils a little today, harder than yesterday.  _ A storm is coming _ , she thinks.  _ It’s not too far now _ . 

She puts down her tea and takes the book from Waverly’s lap, turning to the first page.

“Of all the houses I remember with love the house called Tig na Rosan is the sweetest smelling and the brightest. That is to say it the best of the clean and ordered houses I have lived in” she reads. 

Waverly pulls her legs up to her chest, her chin on her knees and her tea at her side.

“It was in the drawing-room that I heard La speak about Mrs. Carnoustie and it was in the pantry later that I questioned Mina about Mrs. Carnoustie’s legs. La was my mother’s cousin. From my place by the windowsill where I was trying to make a real ladybird climb onto a leaf, I heard her say that Ms. Carnoutistie was deformed. My mother could not remember that and La screamed with laughter.”

Nicole looks up at Waverly and watches her for a minute, looking out past the railing to the sea. It stretches across the horizon. She wonders if Waverly is looking for somewhere in particular. If she can see where she comes from. She looks back down at the book in her lap.

“‘Do you mean she was a hunchback?’ I said. And La said, ‘No. Her back was all right - a bit round, that’s all. She was round all over, and fat. She was very smooth and slippery looking.’ ‘ Did she have an iron boot?’” Nicole looks back up but Waverly is still looking across the water. “‘No. But she couldn’t walk very well, Her legs were like flippers’.”

She reads until her voice goes soft and her tea is empty. The sun starts to settle low on the horizon and soon Nicole can’t see the words on the page, her shadow hiding them from her eyes. Waverly sits next to her, her head on Nicole’s shoulder. She puts the book aside and breathes in the salty air, Waverly’s hair dry under her chin. 

They walk down the stairs and out to the base of the lighthouse, Waverly’s hand swinging lightly in hers. Across the gravel ground and over the ledge, down to the rocky shore. Waverly moves through the wet rocks fluidly, stopping as the water laps at her ankles. 

“Two days,” she says. “I’ll be back in two days.”

Nicole smiles softly. “Promise?”

Waverly smiles back at her, hair dancing in the breeze. “Promise. You’ll wait for me?”

“Right there.” Nicole looks back over her shoulder at the gallery deck at the top of the lighthouse. The lantern is starting to spin brighter now, lighting up the top of the water. “I’ll wait up there.”

“Then I’ll come back.” Waverly wades back through the rocks, stopping in front of Nicole. She takes her sweater off slowly, draping it over Nicole’s arm. She squeezes Nicole’s hand and presses up onto her toes, her lips brushing against Nicole’s. “I’ll see you soon, Nicole.”

“Two days.”

“Two days,” Waverly repeats. She turns to the water, slipping through the rocks gracefully until she’s at the biggest one. She smiles back at Nicole over her shoulder before she disappears behind it. 

Nicole listens to the water lap in and out against the rocks before she hears the soft splash of something breaking the surface. She scans the horizon for anything but the water is getting darker quickly. She sighs softly. The sweater is still worn-warm in her arms and she holds it tightly to her chest.

There’s another splash and Nicole looks up. Something bobs in the water fifty yards from shore, just above the surface. It’s Waverly, Nicole knows. It dives back down and disappears before it comes back up again, closer now. Nicole can see its shape moving in the water, slicing through the currents as easily as breathing. It bobs down and resurfaces another ten yards back, then twenty. Nicole stands there on the shore and watches it as it gets farther and farther away, coming up to the surface fewer times before it disappears completely from sight. She tries to find it in the lantern light but the sun is sinking quickly in the sky and she can’t see it again as it goes dark.

Two days. She’ll see Waverly again. She’ll come up with something. 

-

Her truck makes a rattling sound as she pulls up the front of the hardware store. She frowns as she turns the engine off and it rumbles to a stop. She’ll have to get that looked at soon. The streets are empty, the midday lunch crowd gone back to work. There’s still something somber that hangs over the town. Josh Miller’s memorial wreath flutters in the widow coming off the water. Nicole stops to watch it for a moment, her body chilled at the memory of Alison’s scream. 

“Well hello there, Ms. Haught,” Doc drawls from the front door. He pulls it open, taking his hat off his head. 

“Doc.” Nicole rounds the truck and slips into the store ahead of him. She fishes her list out of her pocket. She needs some new paint for the inside of the lighthouse, and she’ll need to borrow the long ladder he keeps out back to reach the spots. There are other things there, too. Nails and a new hammer drill. She wanders up and down the aisles aimlessly, dropping things into her basket. She adds to her list as she looks through things, picking up items she’s not sure if she needs, but can’t pass up. 

The bell above the door rings. Nicole doesn’t look up, two sets of wood screws in her hands as she tries to remember if she needs 2-½ or 3-inch ones.

“Mr. Hardy,” Doc greets. “And guest.”

Champ grunts a hello. Someone else says, “hello” and Nicole’s blood runs cold.

She peeks her head around the end of the aisle and there he is. Ward Earp. She presses herself flat against the wall of screws, trying to make herself invisible. Champ turns away from Doc at the counter, his shoulders hunched up around his ears. Ward walks with his head high, taking in the plastic 5-gallon buckets along the wall by the door.

“I don’t know why we couldn’t meet somewhere else.” Champ looks nervously over his shoulder. “The docks are empty this time of day.”

Ward scoffs. “The further away from the water, the better.”

Chap makes a face. “I thought you loved the water.”

“No, I don’t. And as soon as I get that money from you, I’m getting as far inland as I possibly can.” He shakes his hands out, crossing his arms over his chest. “The water. My whole family has been cursed to it. I’m going to break that curse.”

“What about your daughters?”

Nicole’s hand clenches tight around the screws container at the thought of Willa.

Ward picks up a paintbrush, letting it drop back into the bucket holding them. “Willa will come with me. Wynonna is a big girl. She can make her own way in the world. And Waverly.” Ward claps Champ on the shoulder with a big hand. “Well, that’s up for you to decide, isn’t it, son?”

Champ winces under Ward’s touch. Nicole watches the pain flash across his face. He opens his mouth to say something but the bell above the door rings and Sheriff Holt steps in, tipping his hat at Doc as he heads straight for the wall of paint. Nicole slips around the next aisle, Ward in her sights as she hides behind the sample of fencing Doc has. 

“I’ll have the rest of the money by the end of the week,” Champ says in a low voice as Sherrif Holt places a paint can on the counter, opening his wallet. “I just have to cash out my last bond.”

Ward’s hand tightens on Champ’s shoulder. “Of course. The end of the week is fine with me. Once I get that last payment, you’ll get her pelt.”

Champ hesitates for a minute. “She doesn’t like me very much.”

Ward laughs, sharp and bright. “Son, she doesn’t need to love you. She only needs to marry you.” He looks out the big front windows to the street. Nicole watches the muscles in his jaw work before he opens his mouth to speak. “If I’ve learned anything about love, it’s that it leaves. So, you find a way to make sure she stays.”

“Her pelt,” Champ says.

Ward smiles. “Her pelt.”

Nicole feels a surge of anger that starts in her chest and spreads to the tips of her ears. She hates how flippantly he talks about Waverly’s pelt. Like it really is something that can be bought and sold. Like it doesn’t matter to her. She hates Ward like she hates Willa and Champ. She clenches her fist so tightly that the plastic container starts to cut into her fingers, but she hardly notices it. 

“Have a good day, Champ,” Sheriff Holt calls as he slips out the front door. 

Champ coughs a goodbye and takes a step away from Ward. “Well, as soon as I get the money to you-”

“You get the pelt,” Ward assures him. Nicole watches him pick up a flat bristle brush, look towards the counter, and pocket it. “Now, let’s get out of here. I need to make sure Waverly hasn’t run off to find that woman again.”

Champ’s mouth sets in a thin line. “Haught.”

Ward waves him off. “Whoever she is. She’s a nuisance. Willa says she won’t leave Waverly alone.”

“She’s always been trying to steal my girlfriends away from me.” Champ scowls. “But she hardly comes down from that stupid lighthouse of hers.”

Ward is quiet for a long moment. “So she’s interested in Waverly romantically, then.”

Champ scoffs. “Like she’d be into Nicole.”

Ward stays quiet again, his forehead furrowed in thought. He hums to himself and shakes his head, his eyes clearing as he looks back at Champ. “Well, son. We don’t need to worry about her much longer. You just hold up your end of the bargain, and I’ll hold up mine.”

Champ smiles widely, sticking his hand out.

Ward takes it, shaking it for a moment. “Now, let’s get out of here. I want a drink.”

Nicole watches them head to the front door, not returning Doc’s goodbye as they shoulder out of the store. The door closes with a soft  _ whoosh _ behind them and Nicole steps out of the aisle, her chest heaving as she tries to calm herself down.

_ Champ _ , she thinks.  _ That stupid, low-rent cowboy, son of a bitch, no good- _

“Ms. Haught?” Doc asks.

Nicole looks up, blinking. Doc smiles kindly, nodding at her hand. She holds it up, wincing at the cracked plastic container. “I’m so sorry,” she starts.

Doc shakes his head. “It’s no bother. I assume you will be purchasing them?”

“Yeah,” Nicole says sheepishly. “And I need a hammer drill if you have them.”

“Of course we do.” Doc leans forward and Nicole takes a step back, confused until he reaches behind her and picks a hammer drill off the shelf. “Will this do?”

“Oh,” Nicole breathes. “Yeah. Of-of course it will.”

Doc’s eyes twinkle. “Well then. Why don’t we get you rung up?”

She hands him the cash at the register, still unable to look him in the eyes. She sits in her truck, hands clenched around the steering wheel as she goes over Ward’s words in her mind.  _ Once I get that last payment, you’ll get her pelt _ , he said.  _ She doesn’t need to love you. She only needs to marry you. _

The anger comes back and it nearly suffocates her.

Forget waiting around for Waverly to be sold off like some kind of catch off the docks. Forget Waverly telling her there’s nothing they can do. Se thinks of Ward and she swears on her aunt that she’s going to do something. She doesn’t know what. She doesn’t know how. But she’s going to find a way to get that pelt away from Champ. She can’t let him come up with the money. 

She has to do  _ something _ .

She pulls onto Main Street, tires squealing on the pavement as she points the truck towards the lighthouse. The road turns to loose gravel, the truck bouncing up and down as she gets closer to home. She hits a small pothole and her mind flashes to her kitchen counter, a loose envelope sitting under the bunch of bananas she bought the other day. 

_ The envelope _ . 

She pulls to a screeching stop outside of the lighthouse, gravel flying up in a thin dust shower around her. She doesn’t take the hammer drill or the screws, slamming the truck door behind her as she unlocks the front door with shaking hands. She takes the stairs two at a time, nearly twisting her ankle when she gets to the landing.

The envelope is there, sticking out from underneath the bananas and the old phonebook she uses to prop the door open on warmer nights. She opens it with shaking hands, sliding the folded letter out carefully. 

_ Dear Ms. Haught _ , it starts.  _ I hope you remember me. I stopped by your lighthouse a month or so ago to inquire if you would be interested in selling it. I urge you to reconsider. I can pay well above comparable asking prices _ .

Nicole scans the rest of the letter, lingering on the  _ Judge Cryderman _ signature at the bottom, a phone number penciled in underneath it. She brushes her thumb over the numbers. Champ said he was going to get the rest of the money together by the end of the week and then he’d get Waverky’s pelt. 

She looks back down at Judge Cryderman’s letter again.  _ I can pay well above comparable asking prices _ .

Nicole puts the letter down on the counter, looking around the living room. This has been her life for 15 years. She grew up here. Found a family here. Found a home. She learned to love herself here.

She’s sure Waverly doesn’t have a place like this.

Something twists in her stomach. The lighthouse is her home. It’s her job. It’s what she’s meant to do. The Haught’s have owned and run this lighthouse for generations, passing it down from one to another.

_ But Waverly… _

Nicole inhales sharply. She feels something for Waverly she hasn’t felt for anyone else. It’s different than Shae. Different than Petra. It’s something that consumes her every waking thought and her dreams. And Waverly is trapped. Trapped under her father’s hand. She’ll be trapped under Champ’s soon. 

_ But maybe _ …

She touches the letter again. This is her home. But Waverly needs her help. She needs to be free. She tries to think,  _ what would Sarah do?  _ Would her aunt defend the lighthouse? Or would she tell Nicole to save the girl? Save the  _ selkie _ . She always told Nicole they were protectors of the water and the things living in it. The people living in it. And now, what would she say?

She closes her eyes tightly and tries to picture her aunt’s face, but all she sees is Waverly swimming through the water, bobbing to the surface to meet her gaze.

Nicole folds the letter back up and slides it into the envelope, propping it up on the small basket of mail she keeps on the counter. She’ll see Waverly tomorrow. She’ll talk to Waverly. She’ll sleep on it and decide tomorrow.

That night, she dreams she’s standing on the rocks and Waverly is there next to her, her hand in Nicole’s. They’re looking over the water, the lantern spinning around them in a dizzy display. She hears her aunt’s voice somewhere in the distance, but she can’t make out the words.

She wakes up with the taste of salt on her lips.

-

There’s still salt in the air. Nicole can taste it when she licks her lips. 

The wind started up this morning, rattling the windows in the early morning before the sun had risen high into the sky. Nicole pulls her sweater on, breathing in the smell of Waverly still lingering on it. It’s cooler this morning, a taste of fall to come. There’s something about the sky that Nicole can’t put her finger on. It looks darker somehow, even as the sun settles in. Nicole busies herself with tending to the highbush cranberry planted at the base of the lighthouse, trimming the stray branches back. 

She looks at the water every few minutes, scanning the ledge and what she can see of the rocky shore. Waverly is coming today. She should be here soon.

Nicole still hasn’t made up her mind about the letter. She stared at it as she drank her morning coffee, the words  _ I can pay well above comparable asking prices _ ringing in her head. She stared at it as she brushed her teeth, hanging out of the bathroom. She stared as it as she pulled on her shoes. She almost picked it up and put it into her pocket, just to carry with her. But she left it there on the counter. When Waverly gets here, she tells herself, she’ll bring her inside and show it to her. Then they’ll decide what to do.

Waverly is going to tell her no. That she shouldn’t do it.

But she thinks of her aunt and she doesn’t know the right answer.

The morning creeps by. The sun is high in the sky and warm, but the breeze coming off the water keeps her in her sweater all morning. It gets darker as the afternoon stretches on, clouds rolling in over the sea. Nicole checks her watch, worrying her bottom lip as she looks at the horizon. She doesn’t see anything coming in. No ripples in the current. No swells. Nothing but the in and out of the waves, crashing against the docks and the rocks a little harder each time. 

It gets dark and Nicole sits on the shoreline, hand clenched into a worried fist. No Waverly. She was supposed to be here. 

Two days, she said. And Nicole told her that she’d wait. 

Ward is there in the back of her mind.  _ We don’t need to worry about her much longer _ , he had said. 

She scans the surface for something; anything. She pulls the sleeves of her sweater down over her hands and pulls her knees up to her chest and she looks, searching the water. She digs her toes into the rocky sand. Her heart pounds in her chest.

_ Come on, Waverly _ , she thinks. 

But the sun is sinking lower and lower until it’s just an orange dot on the horizon and the light from the lantern burns bright. 

Nothing comes up from the water.

Something like dread settles in her stomach and turns her blood cold.


	10. that straight strong arm of light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I know people like you. Think they’re heroes. Think they’re defending some damsel in distress. _Lighthouse keepers_.” Ward spits the words. “You’re not a hero. You’re a useless guard. And of what? The _sea_? You think _you_ can protect the sea?”

She stayed up all night, and Waverly never came. 

The gravel of the driveway stuck to her legs, and the cool air chilled her skin. The night got dark, and the only light was the moon and the lantern off the surface of the water. She could hear the waves crashing on the shore and the soft bumps of boats against the dock. 

But Waverly never came.

Nicole stands on the gallery deck, her coffee cold on the counter in the kitchen. She scans the horizon, but she can’t see anything. No break in the current. No shadow on the surface. No Waverly.

The dread feeling is back, settling low in her stomach like a stomach ache she had when she was younger. 

Something must have happened. Waverly wouldn’t stand her up. _But she doesn’t really know you_ , a cruel voice in Nicole’s head says. It sounds like Willa. She shakes it off. 

She shivers. There’s a fog rolling in over the horizon. It looks thick and soupy, the kind of fog that drives the boats back to shore. They’ll need the lighthouse to guide them home. 

_The lighthouse_ , she thinks. Cryderman’s number is on the refrigerator, staring back at her. She barely slept last night, her mind racing. Waverly and the lighthouse and the offer and Ward and Champ. It made her dizzy. Seasick. Like the first time her aunt brought her out on the dinghy, rowing out into what felt like an endless deathtrap. She learned to love the water and what lived in it, but she was sick every time she looked at it when she first moved to Purgatory. 

The chill in the air bites at her bare ankles. The fog looks darker.

Then she sees it. A break on the surface of the water. Something that pulls the ripples in the wrong direction. Nicole sees the head of a seal pop up and dive back down. She slips through the door into the lantern room, leaving it open behind her. She doesn’t care. Waverly is here. 

She takes the stairs two at a time, her feet sliding on the iron steps. She holds tight to the railing, her hand stinging. Tumbling out of the lighthouse, she stumbles on the gravel, stopping herself and standing straight, running a hand through her hair and down the front of her shirt. She takes a deep breath, trying to slow her racing heart.

“Waverly,” she starts as she gets closer to the ledge. “I was so worried. You didn’t show up and-”

“I _knew it_.”

Willa comes up over the ridge, a sneer on her face. She stands tall, her hands on her hips. Her clothes are wet, her hair dripping down her arms, her feet bare. She looks Nicole up and down, taking in the loose-fitting shirt she’s wearing, her bedhead. Nicole resists the urge to shrink under Willa’s glare.

She tries to make herself taller. “Where’s Waverly?”

Willa scoffs. “She’s not here. Obviously.”

“ _Where_ is she?”

“Not here,” Will repeats. “And if I had it my way, she’d never come back. Not to see you.”

That heavy feeling in her stomach settles lower. Her body aches. “Waverly-”

Willa steps in, her voice low. “Waverly is none of your business. She wants nothing to do with you.”

It’s a lie. Nicole shakes her head. “She wants nothing to do with _you_.”

“You stupid, stupid girl.” Willa shakes her head, her mouth twisted in a humorless smile. “You think you know everything. But you know nothing.” Something flashes in Willa’s eyes. It makes Nicole want to take a step back. But she thinks of Waverly wilting under Willa’s hold and shrinking under Ward’s glares, and she fights the feeling, moving closer. 

“I know all about you.” She watches Willa’s mouth twitch. “I know what you really are.”

It puts Willa back on her heels for a moment. Nicole can tell in the way Willa’s eyes widen before they harden, her lips pressed tightly together. “She told you,” she finally says.

It gives Nicole a spark of confidence she didn’t have before. “She told me everything.”

“She was always weak,” Willa spits. She looks out at sea, eyes narrowed. There’s a fury that burns a circle around them, building until it feels like it’s suffocating Nicole. “She doesn’t belong. She never has. And when Daddy finally gets his money, she’ll be gone. We’ll finally be rid of her.”

Nicole feels an overwhelming sadness. Waverly doesn’t deserve this. She doesn’t deserve _them_. She’s more than them.

“You won’t talk to her again. Do you understand me?” Will doesn’t wait for an answer. “If you thought that boat was the worst I can do, you’re going to find out how wrong you are.”

_The boat_ , Nicole thinks. _Cooper’s boat._ A chill runs through her. “You…”

“It meant nothing to me. You _humans_ mean nothing to me. And if you think I won’t do it again, and again, and again, then you’re _wrong_.” Willa leans closer, her voice a whisper. “I will ruin every single boat that comes out of this port. I don’t care who I hurt.”

“You _killed_ a man,” Nicole says just as breathlessly. “A good man. You killed a good man.”

Willa scoffs. “A good man. Scouring the seas, taking what he wants. There is no such thing as a _good_ man. There are only hunters and prey. And I won’t be the prey.” She jabs a finger into Nicole’s chest, a point of pain that spreads through her. “ _You_ will.”

Nicole watches Willa lean back and smile, slick and evil. It turns Nicole’s stomach over. She thinks she’s going to be sick. This is all her fault. Willa warned her. And she didn’t listen. And now… Now, Josh Miller is dead. _No_ , a voice that sounds like Waverly’s tells her. _No, this was Willa_. Her throat closes, the air thin in her lungs. _Willa did this_. Willa is still smiling, eyes bright with victory. Nicole tries to swallow, but there’s a lump there she can’t get round. Her eyes burn.

“Now,” Willa says. “When I tell you now that you’re going to stay away from Waverly, I expect you to listen.” 

Nicole feels rooted in place.

“If I find out that you look for her, or find her, or _speak_ to her, I’ll do more than just wreck some lousy boat out at sea. We’ll come for your town. Your people,” she promises. “I’ll tear this stupid lighthouse down brick by brick.” Willa waits for a moment, but Nicole can’t speak. She nods, satisfied, and turns sharply on her heel, the damp ends of her hair snapping against Nicole’s cheeks. 

Nicole wants to follow her. She wants to grab Willa by the arm and spin her around and tell Willa exactly where she can go. But by the time she gets herself to move, the fog has rolled in, and Willa has disappeared into it, over the ledge and out of sight. 

She stares into the dark, dense air in front of her, feeling it wind itself around her like a large, damp blanket. It came in too quickly, too heavy. She has to almost fight her way through it to get back to the lighthouse. Her feet feel numb as she climbs the stairs up to the lantern room, letting herself out through the open gallery deck door and standing at the rail, looking below. She can see the fog drifting up off the ground and hanging low, close to the surface. She looks down. The base of the lighthouse is cloaked in it. 

She can’t see Willa disappear into the water from here. She can barely see the boats she knows are out there, lost in the fog, and looking for her light to guide them in.

She wonders for one fleeting moment if they’re safe out there. If getting lost is their only danger, or if something - some _things_ \- are lurking below, waiting for their chance to strike.

Nicole stands there until the fog crawls its way up to the gallery deck, and she lets it take her over.

-

The fog stays overnight and into the day. The sun tries to cut through it as it rises, but it takes most of the day for it to burn it off. Nicole pushes through it all morning, shrugging off its heaviness as she moves through her morning chores. By the afternoon, the air is hot again, the sun burning her shoulders and arms.

She turns her truck on and the radio up, letting the easy listening station take over the noise in her head. She was awake all night and running on coffee and fumes now. She kept seeing Willa standing on the Cooper boat’s stern as it thrashes wildly in the water, dark shapes under the surface. The constellations on her ceiling had seemed like warnings. Willa’s words echoed loudly in the pitch black: _If you thought that boat was the worst I can do, you’re going to find out how wrong you are._

Nicole listens to the DJ announce the next song, the soft strains of the Eagles pumping out of the crackling speakers of her truck, and she looks to the water, hoping to see something.

There’s nothing.

Her hands ache from the shovel she’s holding and the feelings of Waverly’s fingers against her palm. She digs down into the soil again with a heavy stroke, loosening the dirt. She’s going to post a buoy with Josh Miller’s name stenciled onto it, a testament to the man who lost his life at sea.

_It’s your fault_ , she thinks.

In between the Eagles and Steely Dan, she hears the splashing. It’s frantic, like someone struggling in the water, slapping at the rocks and trying to find their grip. She tightens her grip on the shovel, pulling it off the ground in front of her. She’s not sure who it is. _Willa_ , she thinks. She lifts the shovel a little higher, like a baseball bat stretched out in front of her. 

A shadow comes over the ridge and Nicole exhales.

Waverly stands tall, pushing her hair over her shoulder, and smiles. “Nicole.”

Something cuts through Nicole’s chest like a rubber band snapping. She drops the shovel, ignoring the clatter the metal blade makes when it hits the gravel. She crosses the distance between them in three steps, reaching out for Waverly as soon as she’s close enough. Waverly’s eyes widen before Nicole closes hers, kissing Waverly hard.

Waverly makes a noise in the back of her throat that Nicole breathes in. Her hands slide through Waverly’s wet hair, curling around her neck gently. She breaks the kiss, breathing hard against Waverly’s mouth before she kisses her again, slower and softer this time. Waverly’s hands rest on her waist, flexing with each press of Nicole’s lips to her own. She pulls back again, eyes closed.

“You’re here,” she breathes, her lips brushing Waverly’s.

Waverly’s hands press at Nicole’s waist. “I’m sorry it took me-”

“You’re okay,” Nicole interrupts. She opens her eyes and leans back, looking over Waverly’s face, memorizing her eyes and the slope of her nose and the shape of her mouth. “Willa was here.”

Waverly looks over Nicole’s shoulder. “I know. She found out I was coming and she… She stopped me.”

Nicole feels a fire start to burn in her chest. “What did she do?”

Waverly shakes her head. “I’m here.” She pushes up onto her toes and kisses Nicole again. “I don’t know how long I have, but I’m here.”

The anger in her stomach burns a little lighter. She nods, lifting Waverly’s hand to her mouth. She presses a kiss to the center of Waverly’s palm. “You’re here.”

Waverly smiles softly. “I don’t know how long I have, but while I’m here…” She kisses Nicole again.

Nicole gets lost in it. The feel of Waverly’s lips against her own. Waverly’s skin under her hands. The way Waverly arches up into her body, hands at Nicole’s waist. It’s intoxicating. Like the first time she stood on the gallery deck and stared out into the great, blue ocean. Like the first time she saw Shae smile. Like exploring the lighthouse, her first real home. She kisses Waverly until her lungs burn and she’s desperate for air.

Waverly looks past her shoulder again, at the truck blocking the driveway. Her body feels tense under Nicole’s hands. She looks back but there’s nothing there but the stretch of her truck and the stretch of the long road leading to the lighthouse. The boats in the docks down the shore bob up and down. The windsock tied to the hulking shape that is the Black Badge office blows back towards town. 

“It’s only a matter of time,” Waverly says sadly. “Just a few more days.” She looks back at Nicole and tries for a smile. “But then, you know. I’d be here, every day. Not _here_ here, but… here.”

Nicole shakes her head. Waverly wouldn’t be here. Not the way Nicole wants her to be. 

Waverly’s fingers play with the hair at the nape of Nicole’s neck. “We still have a few days. We’ll spend them together. As much as we can. This…” She takes a deep breath, her eyes starting to shine. “This is what matters to me. This is what I’m going to remember.”

Nicole drops her head, her forehead to Waverly’s. “ _This_ doesn’t have to end.” She swallows hard against the lump in her throat as she thinks about Cryderman’s number on her refrigerator.

Waverly smiles sadly. “We both know it won’t be able to last. Champ isn’t going to be okay with that.”

“I have an idea,” Nicole whispers. She takes Waverly’s hand, squeezing it gently before she steps back and lets it drop between their bodies. “Come on.” She pulls Waverly along the driveway and into the lighthouse, walking carefully up the stairs to her living room. Her heart pounds hard in her chest, drowning out the sounds of their feet on the metal steps. Waverly slips in through the door like she’s done it a hundred times before, like she could do it a hundred times more. Nicole stands in the doorway for a moment longer, trying to see the place she’s called home for fifteen years through the eyes of Waverly. The maps on the walls. The pictures in their frames. Judge Cryderman’s letter on her refrigerator. 

Nicole crosses the room, her hand drifting across Waverly’s waist as she goes by. She picks up the letter, trying to take deep, even breaths as she holds it out in front of her, looking hopefully at Waverly.

“Someone wants to buy the lighthouse.”

The moment she says it out loud, it feels real. Someone wants to buy her home. Someone else, someone not a Haught, wants to own the lighthouse and pass it down through their family. Saying it out loud makes it real. Makes it a thing that could actually happen.

But then she looked at Waverly and _that_ felt real, too. 

Waverly frowns. “What?”

Nicole takes another deep breath. “Someone wants to buy the lighthouse,” she repeats. She holds out the letter.

Waverly takes it gingerly, holding it between her fingers as she reads it. “ _Dear Ms. Haught. I hope you remember me. I stopped by your lighthouse a month or so ago to inquire if you would be interested in selling it. I urge you to reconsider_.” Waverly looks up. “Who is this guy?”

Nicole shrugs. “He owns lighthouses along the coast. Cape St. Francis, Rose Blanche. He wants to buy the lighthouse.”

“I read that,” Waverly says lightly. She hands Nicole the letter. “You’re not going to sell it.”

Nicole surges forward a step, holding the letter to her chest. She feels the paper wrinkle. “But I can.”

Waverly’s eyes widen. “Why would you do that?”

Nicole falters for a minute. “For… for you.”

“Nicole,” Waverly breathes. 

There's a loud banging noise that makes them both jump, the sound of wood splintering. Waverly grabs Nicole’s hand, her nails biting into Nicole’s skin. Something splinters again and Waverly spins, facing the door leading to the stairs.

“No,” she whispers.

“ _Waverly Earp_ ,” someone shouts, the voice booming around them. “ _I know you’re in there!_ ”

Waverly takes small steps back, eyes wide and unblinking. She shakes her head slowly. “No.”

Nicole moves in front of her, feeling Waverly grab her arm as she tries to step forward towards the door. She shrugs Waverly off, squaring her body, making sure Waverly is behind her. Something gives an almighty crack and the door moves, the air pressure sucking it tight to the frame. 

There’s the sound of heavy footsteps on the stairs, the metal clanging loud enough for Nicole’s ears to ring slightly. The door rattles angrily and then the knob is turning sharply to the left and there’s a gust of wind that comes as it opens.

Ward Earp sucks in a deep breath, his face red.

Waverly makes a sound behind her that has Nicole moving, Waverly’s front pressed to her back.

“I told you, girl,” Ward says, his voice low and angry. He glares over Nicole’s shoulder. “I told you you’re _not_ to come here and see _her_.”

Nicole tries to make herself taller. Ward has inches over her and she’s shrinking before she even sets her feet. His eyes are flashing with anger, his mouth set in a thin press of his lips. His face is blotchy, his forehead wrinkled. She watches his chest heave as she breathes out in loud puffs of air. She wants to step back. She wants to keep Waverly behind her and slip back into her room, close the door, and keep him out. She’s never seen anyone this angry before. Like he could snap her in half if he wanted to. 

“Daddy,” Waverly says weakly from behind her.

Ward takes another step closer. “I have done everything for you. Raised you after your mother left you. Gave you a home. And this is how you repay me? By going against my word? And for what? _Her_?”

Nicole feels Waverly’s hand tighten on her arm.

“You have a debt to pay, girl,” Ward says. “You’re promised to someone.”

Nicole finds her voice. “ _You_ promised her.”

Ward’s eyes cut over, slicing straight through her. “Don’t you speak to me.”

“I-” Nicole’s mouth snaps closed, her heart racing. She shouldn’t speak. She knows she should keep her thoughts to herself. That Ward looks volatile and unpredictable. _You never were one for listening, were you?_ a voice that sounds like her aunt’s asks. She swallows hard and licks her lips. “You’re in _my_ house. And _you’re_ not going to speak to her like that.”

Ward chuckles, something low and dark that rumbles in Nicole’s chest. It makes her want to take a step back. She sees Willa in him now. The eyes and the mouth turned down into a sneer. The clenched fists. It makes her want to take a step back the way she did with Willa. But something in her chest surges and she straightens up, holding her ground. Ward doesn’t falter as he moves another step forward. But neither does she.

“I know people like you. Think they’re heroes. Think they’re defending some damsel in distress. _Lighthouse keepers_ .” He spits the words. “You’re not a hero. You’re a useless guard. And of what? The _sea_? You think _you_ can protect the sea?”

“I can,” she says, hoping her voice doesn’t waver.

Ward laughs again. “There’s a world there you don’t understand. You never will, human. Now.” He looks past her again to Waverly. “Let’s go, girl. I don’t have all day to be chasing you around.”

“Daddy,” Waverly says again.

Ward’s eyes harden. “Don’t talk back to me, young lady. Remember this, you still belong to me before you belong to that boy.”

“Waverly doesn’t belong to anyone.” Nicole moves to the side, blocking Waverly from Ward. 

Ward stares past her impatiently. “Girl,” he warns. 

Waverly squeezes Nicole’s arm softly. “Nicole,” she says quietly.

Nicole shakes her head, not looking away from Ward. “You don’t have to go with him.”

“Nicole,” Waverly repeats. She squeezes Nicole’s arm again before it slides down to Nicole’s wrist. Her fingers are cold against Nicole’s bare skin. “I have to go.”

“You don’t.” Nicole turns around, grabbing Waverly’s hand. “Stay. The lighthouse. I can-”

“No,” Waverly says quickly. “Don’t.” She gives Nicole a shaky smile. “It’s okay. I’m okay.”

“Let’s _go_ ,” Ward growls from behind her.

Nicole laces her fingers in Waverly’s, tugging her close until their foreheads press together. “You don’t have to go with him.”

Waverly’s smile shakes, her eyes wet. “I have to go,” she says again. Her eyes skate over Nicole’s shoulder to Ward. They linger there for a moment before she looks back into Nicole’s eyes. “I’ll never forget you, Nicole Haught.”

“Waverly-”

Waverly’s lips brush Nicole’s before she leans back. Nicole sways in place, her mouth tingling where Waverly had just kissed her. She feels Waverly drop her hand and she tries to reach for it again, but Waverly slips around her, their arms brushing.

“Get moving.” Ward grabs Waverly’s shoulder, gripping it tightly. Nicole watches her flinch under the touch. “Make me come all the way out here,” he mutters. “I thought I raised you not to be this stupid. You really are your mother’s daughter, aren’t you, girl.”

Waverly doesn’t look back at Nicole. She walks ahead of her father, her feet light as she slips out the door and down the steps. Ward stomps, his bare feet heavier. Louder. Meaner. Nicole stays rooted in place, willing her feet to move and her voice to shout out Waverly’s name. But she’s stuck, Ward’s anger tight in the air around her. Her hand clenched at her side, missing the weight of Waverly’s. 

There’s another crack from below her and it startles her. She rushes out of the living room, down the stairs to the door. It hangs sideways off the top hinge, a large crack running down the middle. It splinters in two at the top, the shards sharp. She has to pull it towards her, listening to the hinges creak on their broken plates. By the time she gets around it, there’s no one in the drive. She can hear the water lapping against the rocks and she rushes the ridge.

Waverly’s blue shirt floats on the surface, tangling around the pointed rocks. A hundred yards in, something crests the water and disappears too quickly for Nicole to get a look at it. She makes her way down the rocky path, wading through the shallow in her work boots to pick up the shirt. She holds it tight to her body, ignoring the way it soaks through her own shirt. It smells like saltwater, fresh off the sea breeze. Her hand tightens on it, wringing it out.

Nicole walks slowly up the path, her boots coated with rough sand as she goes. Water from the shirt races down her fingertips, droplets hitting the gravel beneath her. 

The lighthouse looms above her, tall and white against the blue sky. It’s too bright out, the sun too high. It stings her eyes and she looks down, focusing on the front of the lighthouse. On the scuff marks around the doorframe, big black slashes on the painted white concrete. 

Nicole stares at her broken front door and she knows.

She’ll have to fix it before she sells the lighthouse.

-

Her aunt looks at her over the top of her book. Nicole can feel her eyes on the side of her face but she stares at her homework, stubbornly refusing to turn. Her aunt sighs again and Nicole bristles, waiting for her aunt to say something. But after a minute, nothing comes, and Nicole frowns.

“What?” she asks gruffly.

Her aunt turns a page. Nicole turns to face her. “What?”

Nicole’s fist clenches at her side. “I asked you what.”

“Oh,” her aunt says lightly. “I didn’t hear you.”

“You didn’t-” Nicole stops herself. She counts to ten in her head, like her aunt taught her to, and takes a deep breath. “What do you want?”

Her aunt looks at her for another moment before she speaks. “I want to know what’s got you so worked up.”

“I’m not worked up,” Nicole says quickly. Her aunt raises an eyebrow slowly. Nicole huffs. “It’s not fair, that’s all.”

“What’s not fair, honey?”

Nicole sits back in her seat, dropping her pencil on top of the math homework she’s been staring at for the last fifteen minutes. “It’s nothing.”

Her aunt scoffs. “It’s not nothing. Stare any harder at the homework and you’re going to set it on fire.”

Nicole sighs. “There’s this boy in class. Charlie. And he’s new, from Grates Cove. He has science with me and art with Shae. Like, he just started. _Yesterday_. And today, Champ dumped his whole lunch tray over. Flipped it right out of his hands. Like this.” She throws her hands into the air. “And no one did anything. Because it’s _Champ_.”

Her aunt nods as Nicole finishes talking. “What did you do about it?”

“Nothing,” Nicole says, too quick again. She shakes her head before her aunt can say anything. “I dropped my water bottle on Champ’s new boots.” She fights a smile. “He didn’t waterproof them yet.”

“Ah,” her aunt says slowly. She marks her page and puts her book down beside her. “So you fought back.”

Nicole frowns. “I didn’t fight him. I dumped water on his shoes.”

Her aunt pats the other side of the couch. Nicole gets up from the kitchen table and sits down next to her, pulling her knees up to her chest. Her hair falls down into her eyes. She needs it cut. Maybe past her shoulders this time. 

“Honey, could you have talked to him, instead of dumping water on his shoes?”

Nicole makes a face. “Talk? To Champ Hardy?”

Her aunt pauses and reconsiders. “Okay, maybe not. But could you have talked to a teacher about it, instead of taking matters into your own hands?” She reaches out and tucks a loose strand of hair behind Nicole’s ear. “You’ve got a whole lot of heart, girl. But fighting back isn’t always the right way. Even if it’s not with your fists.”

Nicole bristles. “So I should have just let him bully Charlie?”

“Of course not,” her aunt says. “But there are other ways to get around people like Champ.” She shakes her head when Nicole opens her mouth. “I know. Those Hardy men aren’t worth the time or the effort. But you’re going to learn, you have to deal with difficult people sometimes. And you need to make those most of that. You just need to be true to yourself, Nicole Haught. And I know I didn’t raise a child hellbent on revenge. Not even for the right reasons”

Nicole looks at her aunt for a long minute, eyes narrowed. “You’re being weird.”

Her aunt blinks. “No, I’m not.”

“You are. You are,” Nicole says over her aunt trying to speak. “You went to St. Johns and left me here by myself and ever since then, you’ve been weird.”

“And I suppose you followed all my rules while I was gone, then?” Her aunt’s eyes sparkle. “Even the one that said you weren’t supposed to have Shae up here alone?”

The tips of Nicole’s ears start to burn. She thinks of Shae sitting on this couch in one of Nicole’s long t-shirts, grinning up at Nicole, her chin on her bare knees. 

“Some doctor called,” Nicole remembers. “She said you could call back for your results.”

Her aunt looks away quickly. “Oh,” she says, her voice tight with something Nicole can’t name. “I’ll give them a call tomorrow.”

Nicole frowns. “What’d you go all the way out to the city for, anyway? Because it wasn’t Dr. Reggie’s office.”

Her aunt hushes her. “Now, tell me more about how you swear Shae Pressman didn’t set foot in this house while I was gone.”

Nicole feels her stomach flop. “Chrissy was here the whole time?” she tries.

Her aunt laughs and tugs on the end of her hair, pulling her in until her lips brush Nicol’s forehead. “Nice try, girl. Want to tell me the truth?”

Nicole sighs, but she smiles and tells her aunt only half of the truth. Her aunt lets her believe she doesn’t already know.

-

Champ looks up as she calls his name, his sandwich hanging out of his mouth. “What?” he asks around a mouthful of lettuce and bread.

Nicole makes a face but keeps walking towards him. “Got a second?”

Champ looks around. He’s at the docks, sitting on the tailgate of his truck. There’s an open can of beer next to him, a small cooler next to him. He shields his eyes with a hand, looking her up and down. “What do you want?”

“I’m here to talk to you.” Nicole swallows hard. “About Waverly.”

Champ’s confusion changes to a sneer. He takes another large bite of his sandwich, chewing noisily before he washes it down with a drink from the can. He burps and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “What about her?”

There’s a sour feeling in Nicole’s stomach. “How much?”

“What?”

Nicole takes another deep breath. “How much are you paying her dad?”

Nicole has to give it to him for a minute. He looks shocked, his mouth falling open slightly. But then he laughs, something that sounds like Ward’s, and lifts his drink, finishing it. He claps the can against the side of his head, flattering the aluminum.

“Why do you want to know?”

She scowls at him. “How much, Champ?”

His eyes narrow. “Why do you want to know?” he asks again.

“Just tell me.”

“ _Just tell me_ ,” he mocks.

Her hand clenches into a fist at her side. “Jesus, Champ. What’re you? Twelve?”

“I’m…” He trails off. “No, I’m not.”

She takes a deep, steadying breath. “Then just tell me how much.”

Champ leans back on his hands. “Why do you want to know?” he asks again.

Nicole tries to remember her aunt’s words. _There are other ways to get around people like Champ_ , she had said. She thinks about the letter on her refrigerator and the uncalled number saved to her phone. _Place nice_ , she tells herself. _Play nice_.

“I’ll pay you more,” she finally says.

Champ blinks at her for a few seconds before he barks out a laugh. “You’ll what?”

She grits her teeth, her fingernails cutting moon shapes into her palm. “I’ll pay you more. After you pay Ward. I’ll give you your money back and then some.”

“For Waverly,” Champ says slowly.

“Keep up,” she says impatiently. She exhales slowly through her nose. “Yes. For Waverly.”

Champ keeps looking at her, eyes narrowed as he tries to process her words. “You’ll pay me after I pay Ward.” He clicks his tongue. “You want _Waverly_?”

It takes everything she has not to cross the distance between them and put him up against the side of the truck. She settles for pressing her toes into the dirt beneath her feet, imagining that he’s an ant she’s squishing. He stares at her, eyes wide. It’s not hard to picture him under her foot.

“I want Waverly to be free,” she says instead.

“Oooh,” Champ says slowly. He laughs a little. “You want Waverly to want you. I get it.”

“That’s not-”

He laughs again before she can say anything. “What do you want to do, huh? Be a big hero?” He rolls his eyes. “Just face it, Haught. I got the girl this time.”

“You _bought_ the girl this time,” she corrects him. 

His eyes flash. “You better get out of my face, Nicole. Or I’ll tell Ward you’ve been snooping around. Willa doesn’t like you. She’ll have no problem making trouble for you.” He leans closer. “In fact, I think she’d like it.”

Nicole’s jaw tenses, her hand flexing at her side. She wants to get in his face and take him down a peg. Pull him off the tailgate and hold him up on his tiptoes, her hands fisted in the front of his shirt. She wants to shake him until he understands what he’s doing. What he’s ruining. How he’s taking a woman for granted, stealing her very life out from under her. Some of her anger is with him. Most of it is with Ward. But Ward isn’t here and Champ is. She knows she can knock Champ back a few steps. She did it once, when they were younger. She could do it again.

But her aunt rings loudly in her head. And when she squeezes her hand back into a fist, she can feel Waverly’s hand there, pulling her fingers back gently until the tension drains from her arm. Hitting Champ will feel good. Really good. But it won’t get her Waverly. It won’t get Waverly free.

So she takes another deep breath, counting to three before she exhales, and she smooths her hands down the front of her shirt, willing them to relax. 

“I’ll double it,” she says slowly. “Whatever you’re paying Ward. I’ll double it.” She doesn’t know if she can. She doesn’t know what he’s paying or what Cryderman is going to offer for the lighthouse, but she has to throw this out and see if it sticks.

Champ looks her up and down. “Why should I do it?”

Nicole shrugs her shoulder. She’s thought about this. She’s had the thought that she could cut out the middleman and go directly to Ward herself. But he doesn’t like her. She knows it. He’d never… Nicole thinks the word _sell_ and nearly throws up. Her stomach roils. But Ward would never let it be her. Not after Waverly left to come to see her. Not after the way he broke down her front door. Not after Willa threatened her.

But Champ…

“Because if you pay Ward, you’re out money,” she explains. “Sure, you have Waverly. But do you really want a woman who doesn’t want to be with you?” She ignores the frown on his face. “If you take my deal, you get your money back.”

“But I don’t get Waverly.” Champ shakes his head. “No, I don’t think so.”

Nicole’s chest tightens. “She doesn’t like you, Champ.”

“She will.” Champ pushes his chin into the air, smirking. He broadens his chest, puffing it out. “Everyone does.”

“You don’t want that,” she tries. “You don’t want to live with a woman who can’t stand you.”

Champ’s face flickers for a moment before he rolls his eyes. “Get it through your head, Haught. You’re not winning this time. She’s going to be _my_ girl and she’s going to like it. You get to be the one who misses out this time. And I’m going to enjoy it so much.” He lowers his voice. “Knowing I won? That’s worth losing the money.”

Nicole’s arm jerks forward and she nearly grabs for him. He laughs loudly and leans back, opening the small cooler at his side and pulling out a fresh can of beer. He opens it with a loud _pop_ and _hiss_. She watches him drain half the can in a single gulp. He burps when he’s done.

“Now, get out of here, would you?” He glares at her before he looks back across the dock. “You’re ruining my view.”

Nicole stands there for another second, the anger raging so hot inside of her that she’s not sure she can walk. It boils in her stomach and her veins, tinting the world red. She swallows against the hard knot in her throat, her hatred building until she tastes something hot and acidic in the back of her mouth. Champ just sits there, chewing noisily on his sandwich. He barely glances at her again, watching as a boat cuts its engine and drifts in. 

She turns sharply on her heel, rocks skipping out from on her feet. She thinks one catches Champ’s ankle but she doesn’t hear it. The sea roars too loud in her ears. She can’t hear the horn of the boat as it docks. She can’t hear the fisherman on the docks calling out to it. She can only hear the sound of Champ’s warped laughter, over and over again. It rages over the sound of the water, like an angry winter storm on the sea. 

The anger carries her to her truck and down her gravel road, the truck bouncing like the fury in her stomach. But she pulls up alongside the lighthouse, parking next to the broken door, and the rage burns up and disappears, leaving her devastated.

She gets out of the truck and rounds it, stopping in front of the door still hanging on one hinge, and she lets it wash over. She didn’t do it. She failed. Champ was her only solid option but he was never going to agree to it. She thinks maybe she knew that, deep down. There was too much bad blood between them. Too much competition. She always beat him out for everything. 

Now there’s something she wants - Waverly’s freedom - but she can't get it. Not with him in the way.

Nicole touches the door, feels its broken wood under her fingertips, and she takes a deep breath. She’s going to have to call Cryderman tomorrow and give him a price. 

And then she’ll just have to pray it’s enough for Ward Earp to take.

-

Nicole groans under the weight of the door, resting it on the tip of her boot as she takes a second to get her hair out of her eyes. Just a few more feet and she can rest the door against the base of the lighthouse. The pieces of the broken one are already loaded into the bed of her truck. She can take it down to the dump later after she takes the salvageable hardware off it.

Champ’s words still cut fresh through her. She spent all last night pacing her living room, going over their conversation in her head. She had a nightmare about it. Champ, telling her that she lost with his arms slung low around Waverly’s waist, his chin on her shoulder and his face pressed to hers. She woke up in a cold sweat, panting Waverly’s name, her hand clenched tight in her comforter.

It wasn’t Champ, really. It was the look in Waverly’s eyes. The haunted, lonely look. Nicole spent the rest of the night staring up at the ceiling, seeing Waverly’s face every time she closed her eyes.

She shakes off the memory of it now, focusing instead on lifting the door up and carrying it the last few feet. Her hands ache from the effort. Her toe is cramping where she keeps resting the door. There’s sweat beading on her forehead and getting in her eyes. There’s a soft, nearly-fall breeze that blows most of her hair off her face. The sea is starting to churn, building into light gray peaks before it breaks.

There’s a storm coming.

Nicole pulls in a breath and lifts, her knees straining a little as she walks the door forward. “Go, go, go,” she breathes out. She hits the base of the lighthouse and lets it drop gently to the ground.

She steps back and wipes her forehead on the back of her hand, taking in a few deep breaths. She lets the salt air fill her lungs until they sting. She doesn’t mind.

“Okay,” she says to herself. She picks up a half-filled water bottle on the tailgate of her truck, twisting the cap off and taking a long pull from it. “Just gotta get it into the frame and it should be good to go.” She sizes up the door. It’s heavier than she thought it would be. Maybe she should call Doc and see if he wouldn’t mind making a housecall. Just to hold it while she sets it into its frame. 

There’s a loud splashing noise beneath her. 

Nicole turns suddenly, nearly losing her footing as something cuts through the water towards the shore. It disappears just below the rocks and when it resurfaces, Waverly is there, hair dripping down her bare shoulders and her collarbone. She fights the small tide and the rocks, taking big steps over them until she’s on the sandy shore, balancing some thick and dark in her arms. Nicole watches her scramble up the path, slipping on her wet feet. She tumbles over the ridge, stumbling to a stop in front of Nicole.

“Here,” Waverly says desperately. She pushes something into Nicole’s hands. “Take it.”

Nicole looks down. “Waverly, I-”

“Take it,” Waverly repeats, pushing harder. “Take my pelt.”


	11. in the dark mist of the storms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If Wynonna was right, Ward and Willa will come at first light. Probably before the sun has fully risen. They probably won’t be alone. But that’s hours from now. Not many, but enough. She’s going to spend every single minute watching Waverly, committing her to memory.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All that's left is an epilogue. Thank you so much for coming on this adventure with me. I appreciate you more than you know.
> 
> Rating changed to M for this chapter.

“I was wondering…” Nicole trails off, chewing on her bottom lip.

Her aunt puts down the shovel she’s holding. She puts a hand up over her eyes, squinting at Nicole. “What?”

Nicole takes a deep breath. “The selkie your grandfather loved.”

Her aunt waits patiently while Nicole works the words over in her mind. Chrissy made her watch  _ The Little Mermaid _ for the nine hundredth time last night when she slept over and Nicole has been thinking about it ever since. How Ariel gave up everything to be with Eric. 

“Did she love him back?” she finally asks.

“What do you mean?”

Nicole takes off the gardening gloves she’s wearing, her palms sweaty. “I mean, did she love him back? You said he loved her, right? I mean, that’s what you said.”

“That’s what I said,” her aunt agrees. She tips her head to one side. “I don’t know, though.”

Nicole deflates a little. “Is that why they didn’t end up together?”

Her aunt shrugs a shoulder. “I don’t know,” she says again. “But I do know that your great-grandfather was ready to give everything up for her.”

“Like Ariel gave up her tail to be with Eric,” Nicole agrees. “She loved Eric.”

Her aunt smiles. “I see Chrissy is still on her  _ Little Mermaid _ kick, huh?”

Nicole sighs. “It’s  _ all _ she’ll watch. I couldn’t even get her to put on  _ Peter Pan _ .” She shrugs a shoulder. “I was just asking. I don’t really know a lot about love, you know.”

“You’re young,” her aunt assures her. She leans in like she’s telling Nicole a secret. “And when you love someone, you still won’t know much about it.”

Nicole goes back to chewing on her bottom lip, looking up at her aunt curiously. “Have you ever been in love?”

“Once,” her aunt says softly. “He was a fisherman. He came to town every so often on his boat. We met at the docks.” She looks past Nicole, eyes on something Nicole can’t see. “He was young. Handsome. Strong hands. We were together every night he was onshore.”

“What was his name?” Nicole asks quietly.

“Dylan.” Her aunt looks back at her. “It’s the name of a sea god in Welsh mythology.” She snorts. “He was made for the water, he’d tell me.” She sighs and leans her arm on the shovel. Nicole watches the blade cut into the dirt. “He asked me to go with him, on the boat. He inherited it from his father and he was going to sail it around the world. I said yes.”

Nicole’s eyes widen. “You were going to leave the lighthouse?”

Her aunt laughs. “Your grandfather was still here. So was your dad. They didn’t need me then.”

“But then…”

“Then.” Her aunt sighs. “Then your grandfather got sick. And your father left to ‘find himself’ in the big city. So I gave up a life on the water to guard it, instead. And here we are. Both of us. Doing exactly what a Haught was meant to do.”

Nicole wipes her hand down the front of her shirt, feeling it stick to her back. “But you loved him.”

Her aunt nods slowly. “I was willing to give up everything for him, once. But then when I asked that of him… Well.” She smiles sadly. “He couldn’t do the same for me.”

“Oh,” Nicole says softly.

“That’s the thing about love,” her aunt says. “It’s not just about one person giving everything up. If it’s truly love, then both people are willing to give. Not just one or the other.”

Nicole thinks this over. “So, if you and him were really in love, he would have given up the water for a little while? And if your grandfather and that selkie, if they were really in love, he would have to give something  _ and _ the selkie would have too?”

Her aunt nods. “If she had given up her pelt, she’d be giving up everything to him. He spent years waiting for her, you know. And I’m sure she loved him, in her own way. It’s why she came back. But she loved that water more than she loved him. It’s in their nature, see. Selkies belong to the water. It’s their first love.”

“Huh,” Nicole says softly. “So she loved him. Just… not enough.”

“Not not enough,” her aunt says, shaking her head. “Just differently. Differently than my grandfather loved her.”

Nicole wrinkles her nose. “I don’t think I’m ever gonna love anyone that way,” she says decisively. 

Her aunt smiles fondly and reaches out, knocking her fist softly against the brim of Nicole’s hat. “You will. One day. Who knows. It might even be your very own selkie.” She winks and picks up her shovel again, sighing heavily. “Now, let’s get this cleaned up so we can go and grab some ice cream?”

Nicole’s eyes widen. “Before dinner?”

Her aunt winks. “ _ For _ dinner.”

Nicole grins and pulls her gloves back on, thinking that she’s never going to fall in love. And it definitely won’t be with a selkie. She listens to the waves on the rocks and shakes her head. That’s if her aunt isn’t tricking her, and they really do exist. -

-

“Here,” Waverly says desperately. She pushes something into Nicole’s hands. “Take it.”

Nicole looks down. “Waverly, I-”

“Take it,” Waverly repeats, pushing harder. “Take my pelt.”

Waverly’s hands shake as she holds her pelt, the whole thing moving wildly between them. Nicole sags back under its weight, trying her best to hold onto it as Waverly lets go. 

“Hide it. Hide it.” Waverly’s voice is high, catching on every other letter. She looks back over her shoulder, her hair swinging around her like Medusa’s snakes. She scans the horizon, eyes wild as she looks for something Nicole can’t see. She looks back at Nicole. “Nicole.  _ Please _ .”

Nicole takes unsteady steps back, lifting the pelt higher in her hands. “Waverly, where-”

“No,” Waverly says sharply. “Don’t tell me. Just  _ go _ .” She pushes at Nicole’s shoulders, turning and running back towards the water as Nicole stands still. She stops and looks back over her shoulder. “ _ Nicole _ ,” she cries.  _ “Go _ .”

Nicole turns, still unbalanced, and starts towards the lighthouse. Her arms burn under the pelt’s weight. She can feel Waverly’s fear sucking up all the air around her.  _ In and out _ , she reminds herself. The brand new door swings almost silently on its hinges as she wrestles it open, flinching when it closes and hits the back of her heels. 

“Think, think,” she mutters. The sound echoes off the concrete walls. She takes the stairs, holding the pelt tighter to her chest. “Think.”

The gallery deck is too open. The lantern room is too obvious.  _ The lighthouse was a bad idea _ , she thinks. She stands in front of the door to her living room, panting and panicking. There are some loose stones at the base of the lighthouse. She can go back down and pull them away. Hide the pelt there. But that’s too obvious, too. She pushes through the door, stopping in the living room.

“ _ Think _ ,” she hisses.

Under the couch. Behind the bookshelf. In the coat closet. The ideas run through her head, rapid-fire. Her arms start to ache. She inhales sharply.  _ Her room _ . She knocks a lamp over on her way to her room, dropping the pelt onto her bed. The blue comforter goes dark as it gets wet. She shoves hard at her bed until she can get to the floorboards. She wipes a damp hand over the dusty wood and tries to get her fingers into the space between the boards.

“ _ Shit _ .”

She runs back into the living room, her toes catching the shade of the lamp on the floor. Her toolkit is under the coat rack, the hammer head sticking out. She grabs it, ignoring the sting of the claw against her palm. She goes over the lamp and into her room, dropping to the floor with the hammer in her hand. The claw is too big to fit between the boards but she works it in as far as she can before she pushes her weight against it, trying to pull up the floorboard. It takes a few tries before the claw sinks into the crack enough for it to catch. She pulls back hard on the handle, listening to the wood splinter around the claw.

It takes a few more pushes before the wood groans and there’s a popping sound as the nail holding the board down gives. She pulls it out of place, putting the claw under the next board. It’s easier than the first, the third easier than that. She slides the pelt into it, spreading it out along the subfloor. It’s darker in the shadow of her bed frame, slick. She runs her fingers over it gently.

_ Waverly _ .

Nicole puts the third board back, hammering the nail down crookedly. The second board goes down. The first board doesn’t fit as well, but she hammers it into place until it’s snug. She stands up, the room spinning for a minute before she finds her bearing. She pulls the bed back into place, her torn up floorboards disappearing from sight.

She looks at the wet comforter and shakes her head. It’s a dead giveaway. She gathers it up in her arms and carries it to the bathroom, shoving it into the washing machine. She starts it without adding any soap, the machine thumping to life. It pounds in time with her racing heart. 

Her arms ache suddenly, the strain of holding the pelt and tearing up the floorboards hitting her all at once. She rests her hands on her knees, trying to catch her breath. She stands up slowly, stretching every muscle in her back. She can still feel it in her arms, a heavy, wet weight that settles there. It soothes the ache a little.

Nicole takes the stairs carefully, eyes a little unfocused as she makes her way down them. She pauses at the big, new front door, resting her hand on its warm wood, soaking in the quiet of the large lighthouse around her. Taking a deep breath, she pushes it open and steps out into the sunlight.

Waverly paces along the gravel, a big shirt covering her shoulders and the tops of her thighs. She turns at the sound of the door settling into its frame, eyes wild. “Did you do it?”

Nicole nods wordlessly.

Waverly sighs. “Thank God.” She runs a hand through her hair. “I don’t know how long we have until they find me. But I can’t-” She takes a deep breath, her chest rising and falling. “I can’t stay here. They’ll find me.”

“No,” Nicole says quickly. “No, you can stay.”

Waverly shakes her head. “This is the first place they’ll look for me. He’ll know I came here.” Her eyes start to well with tears. “He’ll know I gave it to you.” She takes a step forward, arms outstretched. “You have to give it back.”

“No,” Nicole says again. “It’s safe.”

“But  _ you’re _ not,” Waverly whispers. She starts to pace again, her bare feet in the dust. She shakes her head, muttering to herself. Nicole leans forward, trying to hear what she’s saying, but it sounds like a different language. She finally looks back up at Nicole again. “My mother. You said she left here. Up the coast.”

Nicole shakes her head. “That was years ago.”

“But it’s a start.” Waverly nods to herself. “I can go. Daddy won’t follow me.” Her shoulders drop. “But he’ll follow you. He’ll blame you.” She shakes her head again and starts to pace. “This was stupid. I shouldn’t have come here. I should have just stayed and- and married Champ and-”

Nicole moves forward, catching Waverly by the shoulders and holding her in place. “Hey,” she says quietly. She smiles softly and rubs a thumb along Waverly’s jawline. “You shouldn’t have to choose between your dad or Champ. What do  _ you _ want to do?”

Waverly is quiet for a long moment, her eyes fluttering closed as Nicole’s hand curls around the base of her neck. She sways forward. “I want to be with you.”

Nicole smiles a little wider. “I want that too. So.” She leans in, meeting Waverly halfway, their foreheads pressed together. “We need a plan.”

“I don’t have one,” Waverly admits in a whisper. “I just had to get out. I had to come find you.”

Nicole pulls Waverly in, resting her chin on Waverly’s head as she holds her closer. “You did a good job,” she says quietly. 

They stand there, nothing but the sound of the water on the rocks around them. Nicole can taste the salt in the air and feel Waverly’s tears on her shirt. She holds Waverly tightly, rocking softly as the warm breeze washes over them. Her arms ache for a different reason now. Her whole body does. Her heart does. She presses a kiss to the top of Waverly’s head, her lips lingering as she breathes in the saltwater.

“I can sell the lighthouse,” she whispers.

Waverly pulls back, her arms still tight around Nicole. “No,” she says firmly. “I won’t let you do that.”

Nicole looks at her, studying the lines of her face, the slant of her mouth. She nods after a minute. “Then we stay. And we fight.”

Waverly presses her head back against Nicole’s chest. “How?” she asks quietly.

“I don’t know,” Nicole admits. “I don’t know.”

-

Nicole paces on the sidewalk outside of the hardware store.  _ One, two, three, turn _ , she counts in her head. She looks back up at the truck parked on the curb. Waverly smiles shakily from the passenger seat. She’s in a pair of Nicole’s old jeans, the legs cut so they don’t drag when Waverly walks. She pulls the ends of Nicole’s sweater down over her hands before she lifts one and gives Nicole a small wave.

Nicole smiles as reassuringly as she can.

The sun is starting to set on Purgatory, the sky a deep orange and darkness on the horizon. She checks the shop hours again, but she can see Doc starting to close up. He’s turning off lights in the back storeroom, walking the aisles and making sure everything is in its place. 

She looks at Waverly one more time. She had gotten Waverly into the lighthouse and the shower, leaving out some clothes she hoped would fit. She had to cut off the bottom of the jeans and give Waverly a belt, but they’re doing the job. She had given Waverly her favorite sweater, the one that still smelled like salt from the last time Waverly had worn it. Her hair curls around her shoulders and her ears but her eyes are open and earnest as they look back at Nicole.

The bell above the door jingles as Doc comes out, closing it and locking it with a solid click. He turns, eyes wide as he comes face to face with Nicole.

Nicole takes a step back, shooting him a quick smile. “Sorry about that, Doc.”

Doc blinks at her for a moment. “Well, do not worry, Ms. Haught.” He pushes his hat further up on his head. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Nicole rubs at the back of her neck nervously. She’s starting to sweat under the collar of her old t-shirt, the one stained by the saltwater and the sun. She looks at Doc in his blue jeans and his vest and his hat perched high on his forehead. He’s been a good friend. The only one she can think of who might be able to help.

“I need something,” she says.

Doc smiles kindly at her. “I am afraid I locked up for the evening. Can it wait until the morning?”

Nicole shakes her head, wringing her hands together. She looks quickly back over her shoulder. Waverly smiles weakly at her. “It’s not…” She trails off, working the words over in her mouth. “I need a gun.”

He looks past Nicole to Waverly sitting in the truck. “Are you entertaining a guest, Ms. Haught?”

“She’s in trouble, Doc,” Nicole says, lowering her voice.

Doc looks back at her. “What kind of trouble?”

Nicole swallows heavily. “The kind I can’t tell you about.”

“You only want to borrow my guns and not my help.” Doc wets his lips. “Nicole, I do not believe it is legal for me to loan you my weapons. Am I wrong to assume you don’t own any firearm license?”

Nicole falters a little. “No, I don’t.”

“And have you ever fired a weapon?”

“Once,” Nicole admits slowly.

Doc clicks his tongue and shakes his head. “Ms. Haught, I am afraid I cannot just lend you my weapons. I can, again, offer my physical support to your unique situation.”

Nicole shakes her head. “It’s not… Listen, I can’t tell you what’s going on. I just…” She takes a deep breath. “I need some help. I need  _ your _ help.”

But Doc just shakes his head softly. “This is something I cannot assist you with, Nicole. I’m sorry.”

Nicole deflates. She was sure that Doc would help her. That he  _ could _ help her. She knows he keeps some guns in the store and a few more in the barn he lives in just past the docks on the other side. She thinks he might even keep a pistol on his person. His ankle, Chrissy had told her once. She just needs one. A pistol. A shotgun. Something she can use if she needs to. She didn’t think shooting a gun was that hard.

She’s hoping it doesn’t come to that, but she’s not willing to take any chances. Not when it comes to Waverly.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats, catching her attention.

“Please,” she tries. “Just for one night.”

He shakes his head again.

Nicole’s jaw tightens at the pity in his eyes. She turns sharply on her heel, taking quick steps towards her truck. Waverly looks at her hopefully from the passenger seat.

“Please,” Doc says from behind her. He waits until she turns around before he opens his mouth again. “Do not attempt to make the same request of any of our other citizens. I will have to call Sheriff Holt, should I catch wind of this.”

Something hot like anger flares in Nicole’s chest. “I don’t need a dad, John Henry. I need help. And if you’re not willing to give it, I’ll find someone who will.” 

Doc doesn’t say anything, watching her instead.

She turns back, rounding the front of the truck and getting in, slamming the door a little too hard. Waverly stays quiet in the passenger seat but when Nicole’s hands flex around the wheel, she covers it with her own, squeezing softly. 

“It’s okay,” she says quietly. “Whatever you asked him, whatever he said. It’s okay.”

Nicole swallows hard over the knot in her throat. “I…” She looks at Waverly, turning her hand over so their palms slide together. “I asked him for a gun.”

Waverly’s hand goes still in hers. “A gun,” she says slowly.

“Just in case,” Nicole says quickly. She slides a little on the bench seat until her knees hit Waverly’s leg. “We don’t know what your dad is coming. Or when he’s coming. But if we’re staying, if we’re not going anywhere, we need to do something. We need to protect ourselves.”

Waverly is quiet for a moment, eyes roaming Nicole’s face. She softens, brushing her thumb over the back of Nicole’s hand. “He said no, though.”

Nicole sighs heavily. “He said he’d tell Sheriff Holt if he found out I asked anyone else for one.” She curls her other hand into a tight fist, pressing it into her thigh. “It’s okay,” she says, mostly to herself. “It’s okay. We’ll talk to Nedley, down at the Doc’s. Chrissy’s dad. I know he has a couple down at the dock office.”

Waverly gently squeezes her hand. “Nicole. We don’t need a gun.”

Nicole looks up from their joined hands. “I just thought it might help,” she admits.

Waverly smiles softly and leans in, her lips brushing Nicole’s. “I know. But we can come up with something else. Together.”

Nicole sighs, softer this time. “Okay,’ she says against Waverly’s mouth. “Together.”

Waverly pulls away, smiling at Nicole. “Now. Let’s go home. I’ll make you some tea and you can read me more of that book we read. ‘Celtic Tales of Seal Folk’, right?” She squeezes Nicole’s hand again before she lifts it and puts it back on the steering wheel. “Let’s go.”

“Home,” Nicole repeats. “Yeah. Let’s go home.”

-

Nicole blinks at the clock on the wall, trying to read the numbers. It’s not too early in the morning, she doesn’t think, but her eyes feel heavy and rough like she’s been packing them with sandpaper. The cup of tea at her side is cold, the bag leaving the water a murky brown that turns Nicole’s stomach over when she looks at it. The clock ticks mercilessly on the wall and Nicole closes her eyes for a moment, letting the soft, rhythmic click wash over her.

_ No _ , she thinks. She opens her eyes, forcing them wide.

She looks at the couch where Waverly is stretched out, “Celtic Tales of Sea Folk” open and on her chest. It rises and falls softly as Waverly sleeps, ebbing like a wave in the sea. She had fallen asleep soon after starting the book, her words stringing into whispers before they stopped altogether. She was exhausted, Nicole knew. The day had taken a lot out of both of them, but Nicole wouldn’t sleep. Couldn’t sleep.

She shifts in the armchair and winces as she moves stretched, taut muscles. Her hands flex around the shovel she’s holding across her knees. She tries to sit a little taller but exhaustion hits her and she sags back into the chair. She’s been here all night, facing the door, a shovel in her hands.

Nicole isn’t sure when Ward is coming. If Ward is coming. But she’s going to be ready for it. She’s going to stop him from getting to Waverly. 

The pelt is still under her floorboards. Nicole thinks she can hear it thumping, asking to be freed. 

Maybe that’s just her heart. 

She stretches her arms above her head, listening to the soft pop her shoulder makes. She should get up and walk around. Make a new cup of tea or find something to eat that might settle her nervous stomach. Nicole stands up slowly, resting the shovel against the arm of the chair. It settles there, balanced on the tip of the blade.

Nicole looks around her living room and lingers on Waverly. Her hair is laid out on the pillow around her head, the lines on her face smoothed away. She looks young, peaceful. Nicole picks up a blanket laid over the end of the couch by Waverly’s feet and drapes it over her carefully, pulling the book out of her hands gently. Waverly makes a soft noise and Nicole freezes.

She waits until Waverly settles again, her mouth falling open as she breathes in and out softly. Nicole pushes back some of Waverly’s hair with a shaking hand. She looks so young in the dim light of the lamp on the end stand. Nicole doesn’t even know how old she is. Or how selkies age. She has so many questions.  _ And the rest of my life to get answers _ , she tells herself. 

The stove clicks on as Nicole empties her cup and finds a new tea bag in the cabinet. She isn’t going to wake Waverly up. She needs to sleep. Nicole runs a hand over her face, rubbing at her dry eyes. She remembers nights like these with her aunt, waiting to see if they could get through to the sunrise. She had spent hours sitting at the edge of the couch, holding a cold, frail hand in hers. Her chest aches as she thinks of her aunt.  _ What would she say _ , Nicole wonders. But she knows the answer.  _ Protect the sea _ , she would tell Nicole.  _ It’s yours to guard _ .

The kettle whistles softly. Nicole turns it off before it gets too loud, pouring some of the hot water into her cup. The steam rises in the air and dampens her cheeks as she drops her teabag. She blows on it but the first sip still burns her tongue.

She walks around the living room, stopping at the large map on the wall. It stretches across the whole space, from her waist to the ceiling. She finds where she is easily. Her aunt had drawn a small red circle around the tip of Purgatory.  _ This is us _ , she had told Nicole.  _ This is the center of our world _ . Nicole reaches out to touch the circle, dragging a finger down to St. Johns and then up, finding Gander.

Waverly’s mom went to Gander. They could, too. Pack up in the middle of the night and go to find her. She got out, got away. They could follow her footsteps and track her down. Maybe she’d have some answers. Maybe she’d give them a place to stay. Somewhere safe.  _ You said you would stay _ , a voice in her head whispers. She nods at the sound of it. She’s staying.

Her finger drifts up along the coast that borders the North Atlantic Sea. She goes through the Norwegian and Greenland Sea to the Arctic, touching the Barents Sea. Shae is still there. The letter she sent last week said that things were good. The summer season was winding down but they were going to make the switch to winter fishing soon. The girl she met was something serious now. Shae had sounded happy. It made Nicole happy. Shae deserved that.

Nicole blinks against the sudden burn in her eyes. She turns back to the couch and watches Waverly for a minute. She’s happy too. Even with everything falling apart around them, she hopes Waverly is happy. 

Something creaks below them and Nicole feels her breath catch. 

The front door. She closes her eyes and focuses on what she can hear. Over the sound of the soft wind and the water, there’s a crunch of the gravel and the pull of the handle. The door opens almost soundlessly, but Nicole can hear it. The door to the living pulls in just slightly, the air pressure in the lighthouse changing.

Nicole puts down her tea and crosses the room silently, picking up the shovel. She rocks back and forth on the balls of her feet, swallowing heavily against the growing knot in her throat. She lifts her arms high, the shovel like a bat. She didn’t play baseball growing up, but she’s got an idea of how to swing. She adjusts her hands the way she’s seen batters do and squares her body towards the door, standing in front of the couch.

There’re quiet feet on the stairs. The metal whistles as someone walks up them. Nicole tries to shake off the sound of the sea roaring in her ears. The footsteps stop outside of the door and then a hand grabs the handle, the knob twisting slightly.

The door opens slowly and Nicole adjusts her grip on the shovel’s handle.

A dark head peeks around the frame, blue eyes scanning the room before they land on Nicole, shovel pulled back and ready to swing.

“Wow.” Wynonna whistles. “I wasn’t expecting a shovel, to be honest.”

Nicole’s arms sag. “Wynonna,” she breathes.

Wynonna slips into the room, her hands up in front of her. “I come in peace.”

Nicole raises the bat again. Maybe Wynonna isn’t alone. “How do I know that?”

Wynonna looks at the couch, at Waverly stretched out on it with the blanket pulled up to her chin, and she smiles sadly. “You just have to trust me.”

“I don’t know if I can,” Nicole admits. Her hands start to ache where they’re tight around the handle. They’ll be sore in the morning when her adrenaline runs dry and she’s swaying on her feet. “You’re one of them.”

Wynonna’s eyes flash. “I’m  _ not _ one of them. I’m on her side, Nicole.”

Nicole watches Wynonna for a moment. “But you’re coming to take her back.”

“They sent me to,” Wynonna admits. “I don’t want to.”

“Then don’t.” Nicole drops her arms, the blade almost hitting her bare foot as she puts down the shovel. “Just let us be.”

Wynonna shakes her head sadly. “They want her back. And they won’t stop coming. Next time…” She trails off, shrugging a shoulder. “I told them to send me instead of Willa. I told them I could convince her to come back.”

_ Willa _ . Anger rushes through her, slicing something hot in her stomach. And then the fear comes like a cold shower, shocking her system. If it had been Willa at the door… Nicole is holding this shovel, but she’s not sure what she’d really do with it. 

“Nicole,” Wynonna continues. “I know you want her to stay. I know you both want it. But there are things, ways that you don’t understand. And it’s not your fault. Humans are different. They work differently. And she knows that. She knows what she has to do.”

“I don’t want to,” someone says softly.

Nicole looks at Waverly as she sits up, pushing her hair off her shoulders, the blanket pooling at her waist. She puts the book down, marking her page carefully before she speaks again.

“I didn’t make that promise, Wynonna.” She wets her bottom lip. “I don’t care about the curse.”

Nicole frowns. “What curse?”

Wynonna looks between them and sighs. “You didn’t tell her about the curse?”

“What curse?” Nicole asks again.

Waverly stands slowly, taking her time to fold the blanket before she puts it down on the couch. Her fingers drift over the fabric, tracing the stitching. Nicole’s aunt had been given the blanket by a passing fisherman who told her that without the lighthouse guiding him to safety, he would have been lost at sea. She kept it all these years right on the back of the couch.  _ A reminder of what we can do _ , she used to tell Nicole.

“Over a hundred years ago, there was a fisherman,” Waverly starts. She walks around the living room, picking up her empty cup of tea and placing it carefully in the sink. She touches Nicole’s fresh cup, curling her hand around the warmth of the ceramic before she lets it go. “He was lost at sea, drifting further and further away from land.”

“A real genius,” Wynonna scoffs. “He didn’t even know what direction he was supposed to go.”

Waverly looks sharply at Wynonna. “He was lost. Too far out for the lighthouse to reach.” She turns back to Nicole. “There’s an outcropping of rocks, far away from here. Where we live, all of us. And his boat hit them. He survived for a day before our ancestors took mercy on him and came to the surface. Our people brought him fish to eat.”

“It’s a harem, by the way,” Wynonna interrupts, winking at Nicole. “A group of seals is called a harem.”

Waverly glares at her. “We’re  _ selkies _ . But,” she continues. “They were too afraid to bring him back to shore. They spent so long hiding away. The stories people told about us… They wanted to capture us. Keep us. If they got our pelts, we would be stuck on land with them forever. And nothing terrified our people more than that. Nothing does.

Nicole takes in a slow, steady breath. “So he what? Just lived out on that rock.”

Waverly nods. “For a few days. But he fell in love with a selkie. They would sit on the rocks and talk for hours. The story is that as soon as they met, they knew they wanted to spend the rest of their life together. She was going to give up her pelt and go to shore with him.”

Wynonna snorts. “Like they were going to let that happen.”

“The elders forbade it.” Waverly looks at Nicole with wide, shining eyes. “They told him no human was worthy of a selkie. They humiliated him. And then they brought him back to shore and banished him from ever finding them again. His name was Clanton. Billy Clanton. He cursed them. He said that for as long as lived, in every generation, one of us must go to shore and give our pelt to a person. We would be trapped on land, helpless to whoever the pelt belonged to. One sacrifice for every generation of selkies.” She swallows hard. “It was my family’s turn this time. And Daddy… he picked me. He was always going to pick me.”

Waverly lifts up the sweater she’s wearing until Nicole can see the smooth stretch of her skin. Along her ribcage, there’s a crude mark. A ‘C’ with a line cut through it that looks burned in. Wynonna pulls back the sleeve of her shirt. There’s the same mark just below the crook of her elbow. Nicole has seen something like them, at a cattle show Mr. Nedley took her to years and years ago. 

“We were marked at birth. All of us.” Waverly sits down on the arm of the couch, exhaustion washing over her face. “It’ll never go away. I used to try when I was younger. To see if the saltwater was going to wash it away. But it hasn’t yet.” She smiles sadly. “It never will.”

Nicole shakes her head. “There has to be a way to break it. Curses can be broken.”

“There isn’t. Not one I’ve found yet.” Waverly runs a hand through her hair. “And I’ve tried. I’ve come to shore and read as many books as I could at the library. But there’s nothing.”

Nicole thinks it over for a minute, her mind racing as she tries to keep up with everything. “What happens if you-”

Wynonna crosses her arms over her chest. “If she doesn’t do it, we’d be turned to frogs.”

“Frogs,” Nicole repeats.

“We would drown out there, that far from land.” Wynonna looks at Waverly. “Unable to drink the saltwater, unable to eat. Unable to swim. We would last three or four weeks, at most, before we starved. Baby girl.” She waits until Waverly is looking back at her. “I wish there was another way.”

Nicole blinks a few times. “So, wait. You were  _ sold _ to Champ because of some stupid curse?”

Waverly shakes her head. “The money part… That was Daddy’s idea. Champ doesn’t know about the curse. He doesn’t know that either way, I would have to come live on land.”

Nicole shakes her head. “No.”

Waverly stares at her. “No?”

“No,” Nicole says again, firmer. “There  _ has _ to be a way around this.”

“Don’t you think we would have found it if there was one?” Wynonna sounds angry, her arms tightening across her body.

Waverly shakes her head. “Last time, it was the McLaurys. Before that, the Claibornes. Now it’s our turn.”

“No,” Nicole repeats. “We’ll go to the library. We’ll keep reading.” She turns quickly, crossing the room and stopping in front of the bookshelf. She runs her fingers along the spines as she reads the titles. “Maybe I have something here. Maybe-”

Waverly puts a warm hand on Nicole’s arm, squeezing softly. Nicole can hear the ghost of Ward for a minute, feeling a trembling hand on her. But when she turns around, Waverly is shaking her head sadly, not in fear. “Nicole,” she says softly. “There isn’t a way.”

Nicole presses her hands to Waverly’s face gently. “I’ll pay it,” she says again. “The lighthouse-”

“Belongs to your family,” Waverly interrupts. “It’s your birthright, Nicole. Just like this is mine.”

“I can get money.”

Waverly shakes her head. “Daddy won’t take your money. He-”

“He hates you,” Wynonna finishes. She shrugs a shoulder when Waverly glares at her. “What? He does. Willa, too. Like,  _ hate _ you. You kind of threw a wrench into their big ol’ plan, you know?”

Waverly covers Nicole’s hand with her own. “You did,’ she says softly.

Nicole turns her hand over, lacing her fingers with Waverly’s. “I can’t do nothing.”

“No, you can’t,” Waverly says in that same soft voice. “Which is why I shouldn’t have come here.” She squeezes Nicole’s hand gently. “I’ll go back. I’ll make it right with them so they don’t come for you. And I’ll be with Champ. Like I’m supposed to be.”

Nicole leans in, pressing her forehead to Waverly’s. “You’re not supposed to belong to anyone, Waverly Earp.”

Wynonna coughs lightly. Nicole closes her eyes and breathes out slowly through her nose. Her lips brush against Waverly’s. Waverly’s hand squeezes her own.

“I have to go,” Waverly whispers.

Nicole’s arm slides along Waverly’s waist, her fingers dancing up around where she knows the mark is. She feels Waverly presses into her hand. “Stay,” she whispers back. “Just for one night.”

“Nicole…”

“One night,” she says again. “And then tomorrow… Tomorrow, you can go.”

Waverly steps back slowly, her hand still in Nicole’s. She looks at Wynonna.

Wynonna exhales loudly, eyes worried. “I don’t know, baby girl.”

“Just one night,” Waverly says quickly. “You can tell them I’ll be back in the morning. Before the sun is high in the sky. I’ll come back and never see Nicole again. I’ll do whatever they say. You can tell Daddy that.”

“Waves,” Wynonna says softly. “Do you know how much I had to beg to be the one to come tonight?  _ Willa _ was coming. She wouldn’t let you stay.”

“But you’re not Willa.”

Nicole looks back and forth between Waverly and Wynonna, her heart pounding in her chest. She knows she can’t give up. She’s got to come up with a plan, some way to get Waverly free of this curse. Ward won’t take her money, but she can try and convince Champ he has to. A part of her knows he still won’t go for it.  _ Get it through your head, Haught. You’re not winning this time _ , he had said.  _ Knowing I won, that’s worth losing the money.  _ He’s always been like this, always wanting to beat her out of some imaginary competition.

But this time, he’s right. He is going to win. He’s going to get Waverly.

Wynonna sighs and runs a hand through her hair, pushing it off her shoulder. She looks at Nicole before she looks back at Waverly and sighs again. “They’ll come early. They won’t wait for you to come back.”

“I know,” Waverly says quickly. “Just a few hours. That’s all I need.”

Wynonna takes a deep breath, shaking her head softly. “Just a few hours,” she repeats. She crosses the room, taking Waverly’s face in her hands. She leans in pressing a kiss to Waverly’s forehead. “Don’t be stupid, baby girl.”

Nicole watches Waverly sway into Wynonna’s touch, eyes closing for a moment before Wynonna steps away. She moves closer to Waverly, a hand steady around her waist as she holds Waverly tight against her side. Waverly leans into her, her temple against Nicole’s shoulder. Nicole turns her head, her chin on the top of Waverly’s head. She feels Waverly breathing out in calm, even streams of air and she tries to match it to quiet her racing heart.

Wynonna smiles crookedly at them from the doorway before she ducks out of the living room and down the stairs.

“I’ll be right back,” Nicole whispers, grabbing her cellphone and slipping out the door behind Wynonna. By the time she gets to the front door, there’s nothing but darkness stretching out ahead of her. She thinks she hears the soft crunch of gravel just a few feet in front of her.

“Wynonna,” she calls into the darkness. She sees a shape pause and turn back. “This can’t happen.”

Wynonna steps closer, eyes bright in the light coming off the water. “It’s already done, Nicole. I don’t want this any more than you do. But if I could have done something about it, I already would have.”

Nicole wrings her hands together, a chill sending a shiver down her spine. She toes the gravel with her bare foot, the rocks cutting into her sole. The cool air bites at her ankles. Her chest aches a little, the sad look on Waverly’s face cutting through her. She rubs at the back of her neck, taking a deep breath.

“I have an idea,” she says slowly. “But I need your help.”

Wynonna eyes her warily.

Nicole forces a smile back. “I just have to make a phone call.”

-

Waverly is sitting at the table when Nicole gets back inside, her chin on her knees and a steaming cup of tea in front of her, “Celtic Tales of Sea Folk” open on the table. She’s turned the overhead light off, the lamp by the couch burning bright without a lampshade. She watches Waverly trace a finger over the illustrations on the page. Standing in the doorway, it’s easy to imagine this as the rest of her life.

Waverly looks up and smiles. For a moment, Nicole can see the time unfolding between them. It’s a never ending stretch of nothing but the two of them living their life together. Tending to the lighthouse, guiding the ships in, keeping the lantern lit.

“Hey,” she says quietly.

Waverly stares at her for another moment. “Hi,” she finally says. “Everything okay?”

Nicole nods shakily. Her phone still burns in her pocket, warm from being used. She glances at the clock. It’s almost two in the morning now. If Wynonna was right, Ward and Willa will come at first light. Probably before the sun has fully risen. They probably won’t be alone. But that’s hours from now. Not many, but enough. She’s going to spend every single minute watching Waverly, committing her face and the shape of her hands and the curve of her neck to memory.

Waverly holds out a hand, a mug in it. “Come sit.” She nods at the empty chair at the table. 

Nicole takes slow steps across the living room into the kitchen, sitting down and pulling her seat closer to Waverly so her knees bump against Waverly’s toes. “We don’t have much time.”

“We have enough for a cup of tea.” Waverly drops a warm hand over Nicole’s knees. “Maybe two, if we feel like it.”

Nicole laughs softly. “You want to spend all night drinking tea?”

Waverly’s eyes darken in the lamplight coming from the living room. “No,” she admits. “I don’t.”

Nicole puts down her cup, working her fingers up Waverly’s shin. “I hate this,” she breathes.

“I know,” Waverly whispers back. She covers Nicole’s hand with her own, her fingers curling around Nicole’s wrist. She pulls it gently, Nicole’s hand ghosting over her leg and onto her knee. She runs her fingernails down Nicole’s forearm to her elbow, tapping out a pattern Nicole can’t figure out. “But we have tonight.”

“We have tonight,” Nicole repeats. She wets her lips, watching Waverly’s eyes dip down to her mouth. 

Waverly drops one leg between Nicole’s, her toes along Nicole’s calf as she moves a little closer. She tips her head to one side, her hair falling across her eyes before Nicole reaches up and brushes it back, tucking it behind her ear. Waverly turns into the touch, her lips against Nicole’s palm.

Nicole sits back, taking Waverly’s hand with her own. “Come on,” she says quietly. She stands and takes the blanket off the back of the couch, tucking it under one arm as she leads Waverly out of the living room and up the stairs. 

The lantern spins rhythmically in its socket, lighting up the glass windows. They sparkle like snowfall in the dark, flashes of brightness. Waverly watches it for a minute, her eyes wide with wonder as it goes and goes. She trails her fingers along the wire railing that surrounds the lantern.

Nicole watches her watch the light, trying to memorize the lines of Waverly’s face for later.

Waverly finally looks away and smiles at Nicole. She slips past her to the door leading to the gallery deck and reaches back for the blanket in Nicole’s hand, spreading it out before she sits on it. Nicole slides out after her, her feet dangling off the wooden boards and into the darkness around them. The moon hangs brightly in the sky, the lantern brighter on the water.

Waverly sighs. “I’m going to miss this,” she says, the words so quiet they almost get swallowed up by the night.

Nicole drops her hand over Waverly’s, squeezing gently. “I’m going to miss you.”

Waverly turns her head, looking at Nicole for a long moment. She finally reaches up and runs a finger over Nicole’s forehead and between her eyes. “I’m going to miss you too,” she says, her fingers skimming over Nicole’s cheeks and across her bottom lip. “I’m going to miss you just as much.”

She wants to say  _ stay _ one more time. But she doesn’t. She wants this moment. She wants to hold onto it and keep it tucked away for later. If her plan fails, if it doesn’t come together, then this might be all she has.

“I’ll always be here,” is what she says instead. “It’s my birthright, right?”

Waverly drops her head to Nicole’s shoulder. “It is. I looked up property records, you know. Once when I was in town, just after I met you. This lighthouse has belonged to the Haught’s for over a hundred years.”

She wants to tell Waverly  _ I’d sell it _ one more time. But she doesn’t.

“Your grandfather’s grandfather Samuel Haught bought it in 1880 from a local fisherman named Masterson. He moved his family in, his wife and four children. His son James took over as lighthouse keeper when Samuel passed. James had a son named Alfred, after his uncle. Alfred had Sarah and Sarah, well. She was your aunt.” 

“I didn’t know that,” Nicole admits. “My father’s name is Samuel.”

Waverly squeezes her hand. “Did he pass?”

Nicole snorts softly. “Worse. He left.”

“Fathers,” Waverly says after a minute. She sighs heavily. “When I was little, my mom used to tell me that there was a whole wide world outside of the sea. And that it was beautiful and vast. Well.” She laughs softly. “Mama didn’t use words like vast, but if she did, it’s what she would have said. I was so young. I couldn’t see anything past the water. I wanted to swim out as far as I could. I never wanted to go to land. Everyone made it sound so scary.”

“I used to be scared of going too far out,” Nicole admits. “I was never really made for the water.”

Waverly is quiet again, taking in her words. “I think we’re made for the water in different ways.”

Nicole looks across the black sea. She wonders where that outcropping is, where Billy Clanton crashed his boat. She thinks maybe if she was him, if she ended up on those rocks and she met Waverly, she’d feel the same way he did. 

Waverly squeezes her hand gently and Nicole turns her head, searching Waverly’s eyes. She can see the water reflecting back at her. When she kisses Waverly, she can taste the saltwater in the air on her lips.

Her hand slides along the curve of Waverly’s neck, pulling her closer as she kisses Waverly soft and slow. There’s a hand in the center of her chest, pressing gently against her breastbone. It’s warm, weighted, and it grounds her, giving her something to hold onto. She presses her thumb to the point of Waverly’s chin, tipping her head up so she can kiss her harder. 

Waverly makes a soft noise in the back of her throat and leans into Nicole. Her hand moves lightly to Nicole’s shoulder, fingers curling around the bone gently before they tighten as Nicole’s tongue brushes against Waverly’s bottom lip. Waverly makes another noise and Nicole catalogs it, trying to commit the rise and fall of it to memory. It sounds like the ocean, in and out against the rocks. She ebbs and flows, leaning into Waverly and pulling away as she moves a hand down Waverly’s neck, across her collarbone, and down the center of her chest to the bottom of the sweatshirt Waverly is wearing. 

She slips a hand under the hem of it. There’s nothing but skin underneath it and she wants to touch it all. Learn it well enough that she’ll never forget what it feels like to be in this moment. Waverly’s hand tightens on her shoulder, her fingernails biting through Nicole’s thin t shirt. Her hand drifts along Waverly’s ribcage, feeling the soft, raised skin where the mark is. She traces it with the tip of her finger. The C, the line. A single imperfection. She presses her palm to it, like covering it can take it away. But it’s still there when she pulls her hand back. She brushes her fingers over it against Waverly shivers.

“Sorry,” she breathes.

Waverly shakes her head, eyes wide. “It’s okay. I wish-”

Nicole leans in to kiss her again, cutting her off. She doesn’t want to talk about the Clanton curse. She doesn’t want to talk about Ward or Willa. She doesn’t want to talk about how at the further point on the horizon, the sky looks a little lighter there. She wants to be here, with Waverly.

Waverly’s body is smooth and warm under her touch. Nicole’s fingers walk across it, memorizing the feel of each dip and curve. She rests her hand lightly over Waverly’s breast, barely touching it. Waverly arches up into it, her mouth still against Nicole’s. Nicole touches a little firmer, intentional. Waverly sighs softly, the sound swallowed up by Nicole’s mouth as she parts her lips. 

Waverly covers Nicole’s hand with her, holding it still. She takes a shuddering breath, nodding gently before she lets go.

Nicole lifts her other hand, brushing Waverly’s hair back over her shoulder. “Are you sure?”

Waverly nods again, eyes dark in the moonlight. “Yes,” she says, voice breaking on the word.

Nicole looks at her for a long moment. Her hair is pushed back over one shoulder, her chest rising and falling as she breathes in. Waverly blinks a few times, her cheeks a soft pink that Nicole can barely make out. She traces the line of Waverly’s jaw, memorizing the way it cuts down to the point of Waverly’s chin. She kisses the same spot where her thumb rests, feeling Waverly swallow hard at the touch.

She eases Waverly back, the blanket spread out beneath them. Her hand drifts down Waverly’s stomach, fingers dipping under the waistband of the soft shorts she changed into when they go back to the lighthouse earlier. Waverly shivers underneath her touch, body lifting to meet Nicole’s hand solidly. Nicole smiles into their kiss. Waverly smiles back, a soft laugh escaping from her mouth. She ducks her head, pressing her forehead into Nicole’s shoulder.

“Tickled,” she murmurs.

Nicole presses her hand against Waverly’s side, her touch firmer. 

Waverly sighs. “Better.”

Nicole kisses her again, harder this time. Waverly’s body rises up to meet her hands, fitting against her like she was made to do this. Like they were made to be up here on the top of this lighthouse, stretched out along each other, the light on the water spinning as Nicole’s mind does the same. Nicole nips gently at Waverly’s lip until her mouth opens. Her tongue dips inside, touching Waverly’s before she pulls back again.

Waverly chases her, kissing her harder and longer.

Nicole’s fingers walk across Waverly’s hipbone, down to the cut of her stomach and over the tops of her thighs. Waverly’s breath catches in her throat and Nicole pauses. Waverly’s eyes close for a long moment before she opens them again and nods, her hand moving up Nicole’s arm to her shoulder. 

Nicole’s fingers dip down and Waverly sucks in a breath she doesn’t let out. Her body arches up into Nicole’s hand, fingernails scratching against Nicole’s skin. 

Nicole watches her face, filing every small thing away for later. The bow of Waverly’s mouth, her chin in the air. She memorizes the way Waverly’s eyes flutter close with each press of Nicole’s fingers. She catalogs each breathy whisper of her name. She puts them into a box she labels  _ Waverly _ , a box she’ll take down one day and go back through, remembering this moment all over again. Waverly shifts under her touch and the night swallows up her gasp.

Waverly grips her shoulder tighter, her body rising to meet Nicole’s. She slows down, almost lazily moving her fingers into a softer rhythm. Waverly sighs and turns her head, pressing it into the crook of Nicole’s elbow. Her lips pucker, leaving a small mark on Nicole’s skin. She feels it blossom under Waverly’s mouth, the cool wind brushing over it. Waverly kisses her again, the movement shaky as Nicole’s fingers curl. 

She thinks about kissing Waverly for the first, sitting up here on this ledge with the water stretched out before them. She thinks about their second kiss, the wind on their cheeks. She can’t see the sea now, but she can hear it over Waverly’s soft sighs. The sighs start to break as Nicole presses her fingers into Waverly. Rise and fall. Ebb and flow. She moves as slowly as the water on a clear day, in against the rocks and out again. 

Waverly pulls her down by the chin, kissing the corner of her mouth. Nicole kisses her again, her tongue against Waverly’s bottom lip, and pulls back. 

She watches the way Waverly goes taut, a single string pulling through her body. She can feel Waverly trembling under her hand. Fingernails cut into the skin under her shirt, Waverly’s grip tight. She keeps up the slow, steady press of her hand as Waverly’s eyes go wide, almost midnight black. She pulls in a sharp gasp.

And then Waverly melts away from her, her body soft and languid. She sinks back against the blanket and the wooden deck, her hair spread out in the dark as her chest heaves. The color comes back into her eyes, a flash of pink on her cheeks. She makes a soft noise in the back of her throat and turns, pressing her forehead into Nicole’s shoulder, hiding her face.

Nicole leans way, pushing Waverly’s hair off her face, her hand lingering on Waverly’s jaw. She smiles, pressing a kiss just below Waverly’s ear. 

“I love you,” she says, just over the sound of the water below them, churning now as the sea starts to wake up.

Waverly eyes flutter closed for a moment. “You do?”

Nicole nods, chewing on her bottom lip. “I love you,” she says again, testing the words in her mouth. They feel like they belong there. Like she’s been waiting to say them her whole life. It doesn’t cheapen the other times she’s said it, the other people she’s said it to. But something about this feels different. Heavier in a way that makes her feel like she’s grounded for the first time in her life. 

Waverly smiles, turning her head until the smile is pressed to Nicole’s arm. “I love you too.”

She thinks maybe she should say more. She should list all the things she loves about Waverly, all the things she thinks she’ll love later on. But she doesn’t. She breathes in and out. Tastes the salt on her lips. She runs a finger down Waverly’s neck to the hollow of her throat and the swirl of her collarbone. She stays quiet, listening to the water and the wind, and she breathes. 

Waverly sits up slowly, shivering against the cool air. Nicole reaches for her, hands at her waist as she brings Waverly closer. Nicole shifts back until she can feel the glass wall behind her. She holds up the blanket, tipping her head. “Come here.”

“I don’t think I’ll ever be over this view,” Waverly says. She settles back against Nicole’s front, pulling Nicole’s arm around her waist over the blanket.

Nicole looks down at Waverly, the smooth curve of her neck and her shoulder, down her arm and where their hands tangle together over Waverly’s stomach. “Me either,” she says softly.

The sea ebbs and flows quietly, only the soft splashing of water against the rocks giving it away. The sky is starting to lighten, the dark black beginning to fade to a lighter blue. The sun is going to come up soon and reality is going to set in. But she wants this for a minute longer. She wants Waverly in her arms, her saltwater hair in Nicole’s face, their bodies pressed together and warm. 

She tries not to count the minutes she has left.

-

Waverly slips around her, her hand on Nicole’s waist as she looks out the large window overlooking the rocky ledge that leads to the water. Her hair is wet from the shower and it smells like warm vanilla sugar instead of saltwater. Nicole presses her nose to the top of Waverly’s head. She likes the salt better. It smells more like  _ Waverly _ . 

“Anything?” she asks quietly.

Nicole looks back to the water. There hasn’t been anything on the horizon yet. She’s been standing here since they came down from the gallery deck, their skin cooled and the sun starting to come up low on the far horizon. She rubs at her tired eyes. Maybe there is something and she's just not seeing it. But she blinks hard and looks again. She can’t see anything but the soft rolls of the waves.

Waverly’s hands flutter at her waist. “They’ll be here soon.”

Nicole pats the pocket of her jeans. Her phone is still there, cool to the touch. She’s waiting for a call back. She just hopes it comes soon enough.

Waverly turns her slightly, pulling her away from the window. “You should eat. I’ll make you something.”

Nicole glances back out the window and her  _ I’m okay _ dies on her tongue. There, on the horizon, are small black shapes dipping in and out of the water. They get closer, under the water for longer. She takes a deep, steadying breath. “No time,” she says quietly.

Waverly looks past her. She freezes, just for a moment. Nicole watches her intentionally loosen her shoulders and flatten the high line of her mouth. She takes Waverly’s hand and squeezes tightly, trying to pull her back.

“Hey,” she says quietly.

Waverly blinks at her, unfocused for a moment before she forces a smile. “It’s okay,” she says before Nicole can. 

Nicole nods her head. “It’s okay.” It sounds tin, hollow. But she nods again, like it’s going to make it true.

Waverly’s hand slips out of her and lands at her side. “If we don’t meet them out there…”

Nicole knows. They’ll storm the lighthouse. Ward might break more than her door. She thinks of the lantern, high above them. She needs to protect it. The boats will never be able to come home without it. She touches her pocket again. 

“Come on,” Waverly says gently. She reaches for Nicole’s hand again. 

She lets herself be led across the living room to the front door. She lets Waverly pull off the big white sweater she likes and hang it back on the hook. She lets Waverly turn back to the room and look around at the mat and the couch and the blanket draped over its back. Waverly walks to the book shelf and carefully puts “Celtic Tales of Seal Folk” back, running the tip of her finger over the spine. She looks at Nicole with a careful smile. “I’ll finish that someday.”

“Someday soon,” Nicole promises. 

Waverly’s smile flickers.

They can hear splashing through the open window and something cold runs up through Nicole’s spine. She slips her phone out of her pocket but there’s still nothing on it.  _ Come on _ , she thinks to herself.  _ Come through for me _ .

Waverly takes her hand and slips out the door into the stairwell. Nicole tries not to think that their feet on the metal stairs sound like distant gunfire. They stop at the front door, Waverly’s hand pressed to the wood. She looks back at Nicole and gives her a smile, one that doesn’t seem as forced, and lifts up onto her toes, kissing Nicole softly.

She pushes open the door before Nicole has a chance to catch up.

There’s nothing on the ridge when they get outside, but she can hear voices and the water splashing below them. She closes her eyes and tries to focus on the voics. She recognizes Willa’s higher pitch, Ward’s low register. There’s two other voices she doesn’t recognize, though. Deeper, unfamiliar voices. They didn’t come alone.

Nicole reaches for Waverly’s hand and squeezes it tightly. Waverly squeezes back as Ward crests the ridge.

“Well, this makes this whole thing easy, doesn’t it.” He looks back over his shoulder as two men come up behind him. They’re older but broad-shouldered, towering over Willa as she climbs up next to them. “Looks like I brought you for nothing.” Ward looks at Nicole. “My uncles, Virgil and Morgan. They’re not  _ fond _ of outsiders.”

Virgil spits in the gravel.

Ward turns to Waverly. “I hope you’ve got a good explanation for this…  _ adventure _ you took, girl. Because trust me, you’re going to be wishing you never went against my word.”

Someone huffs loudly, coming up over the ridge behind everyone else. Wynonna stands, the legs of her jeans dark from the water. “I thought you were waiting for me?” she asks.

Ward’s eyes flash. “I thought I told you to stay home,” he says, the words low in his throat.

Wynonna seems unaffected. “And let Ms. Congeniality do the talking?” She scoffs. “I don’t think so.”

Ward stares at her for another minute before he looks back at Waverly. “Well, enough is enough. Let’s go.”

Nicole’s hand drifts across her pocket as Ward takes a menacing step forward. “She’s not going anywhere,” she says loudly.

Waverly flinches next to her.

Ward stops, his neck craned back as he looks her up and down. “I’m not even going to waste my time with you, human.” He looks back at Waverly. “Come on, girl. I don’t have all day. Get your pelt. We’re leaving.”

Nicole thinks of Waverly’s pelt stuffed under her floorboards. If she closes her eyes and focuses past the gravel crunching under their feet and the waves and the seagulls and the boats docking, she thinks she might be able to hear it beating, like a heart. She feels her own in her chest, thudding hard against her ribcage.

“It wasn’t there,” Willa says loudly. Ward’s head snaps around. “Where it usually is. I checked and it’s not there.”

Ward turns back to Waverly, eyes blazing. “Don’t tell me you were that stupid.”

Nicole feels her shoulders raise in defense. She starts to take a step forward but Virgil matches her, moving closer. Nicole stays where she is, angling herself so she’s in front of Waverly. She can feel Waverly at her back like that night Ward kicked his way into the lighthouse to come and get her. It makes something in her falter. She feels like a kid again, trying to stand up to Champ Hardy. She could do it then, stand up to a bully. And that’s what Ward is. A bully.

She’s always hated bullies. 

“Go get it,” Waverly says quietly. Nicole turns and Waverly looks at her with a soft, sad smile. “Go ahead.”

Nicole glares at Ward, her hand clenched into a tight fist. “Waverly,” she says through clenched teeth.

“It’s okay.” Waverly’s voice is quiet and soothing. “It’s going to be okay.”

Nicole’s phone makes a soft beep in her pocket, vibrating against her hip bone. She slips it out, palming it as she reads the home screen.  _ 1 New Message _ . She opens it.

“ _ Go _ ,” it reads.

Nicole slips it back into her pocket, pushing it down hard.  _ Go _ , it said. Her heart starts to pound, her chest tightening. She catches Wynonna’s eye and nods, sharp and short. She watches Wynonna slip behind Virgil and over the rocky ledge. She glances back at Ward, trying not to startle when she realizes he’s staring right at her.

“This is  _ your _ fault,” he spits. He takes a menacing step forward. “If you hadn't gotten in the way of this, it wouldn’t be such a mess. Now I’ve got that stupid Hardy kid trying to sail his toy boat out to us to find out why the woman he paid for is suddenly running off with a  _ lighthouse keeper _ .”

“You shouldn’t have sold her in the first place.” Nicole pauses for a moment before she gathers her nerves and pulls herself up taller. She needs to kill time. “She’s not property.”

Ward laughs, dark and cruel. “Well, she certainly doesn’t belong to you.”

“She belongs to  _ herself _ .”

“Nicole,” Waverly says softly. “It’s okay.”

Nicole shakes her head. “I’m not going to go get it. She’s not leaving with you.”

Ward smirks. “Well, didn’t you just say she doesn’t belong to you? Shouldn’t it be up to her, then?” The look on his face twists into anger. “So, girl. What’re you going to do?”

Waverly looks between Nicole and Ward, her chest starting to rise and fall like a storm coming in off the water. Nicole wants to press her hand to it, calming her down. But Ward is staring at them and Waverly is staring at her and Nicole feels stuck between them. 

“Come on,” Ward says between clenched teeth. “Let’s  _ go _ .”

Nicole feels Waverly tense behind her and she reaches back blindly for Waverly’s hand. 

“ _ No _ .”

Nicole turns back to look at Waverly. Ward’s eyes cut to her. 

Waverly takes a deep breath and straightens up. “I said  _ no _ .”

Ward’s eyes flash. “You said-”

“It’s mine. It’s my pelt. It’s not yours to give away.” Waverly points a finger at him. “It was  _ never _ yours to give away. It’s  _ mine _ .” She looks at Nicole, her eyes softening. “And I gave it to her.”

Nicole can feel something bubble up in her chest, warm and light. 

Ward takes another menacing step forward. “Go get it back,” he says, grinding his teeth together.

“No,” Waverly says again, her own jaw set. “I choose love. I choose Nicole.”

Wynonna slips back over the ledge, meeting Nicole’s eyes briefly.

“You  _ stupid _ , ungrateful-”

Waverly stands taller, her hand in Nicole’s. “I’m real. And I stay.” She flinches, her hand at her side. She looks up, confusion on her face, but she squeezes Nicole’s hand firmly and lifts her chin into the air. “I’m staying  _ here _ . I’m giving my pelt to Nicole. Because I love her.” She flinches again, panting out a breath. She presses her hand against her side again. “I love her,” she repeats.

Ward takes a step closer, his leg giving a little under his weight. His face is twisted the same as Waverly’s. “You don’t get to just  _ give _ her your-”

“I’m giving it to her.” Waverly stumbles now, her knee buckling. Nicole grabs her around the waist, holding her steady. “I’m giving-” She gasps, eyes fluttering closed. 

Nicole watches pain flash across Virgil’s face, Morgan dropping to one knee in the gravel. 

“Giving-” Waverly tries. She makes a low, keening sound in the back of her throat, her weight heavy in Nicole’s arms. “To her. Giving-”

Willa hisses, one hand pressed to the center of her chest. Her eyes are wide, panic rising in them. Ward tries to take another step forward and falls to his knees, grabbing at his shoulder. Wynonna pulls her arm against her chest, face twisted in pain.

Nicole looks wildly between them all, feet sliding in the gravel as she tries to watch them and hold Waverly up at the same time. They’re all unsteady, dropping to the ground and kicking up the soft dust that lives in between the small rocks. Waverly makes another pained sound, her hand pressing hard enough against her side that Nicole thinks she might break a rib.

Ward throws his head back and yells. The waves swallow the sound up. Tears start to stream down Willa’s face as she claws at her chest. Wynonna sits back on her knees, arm pressed tightly to her body, curling in on it. Virgil and Morgan pull at their shirts, Virgil’s hand at the back of his neck and Morgan’s over his heart. Waverly turns, her face into Nicole’s arm.

“What’s- what’s happening?” Ward pants. He grits his teeth again and doubles over in pain. He seems to spasm, body jerking as he falls onto his side in the gravel, before it stills, the dust settling around him. He lays on his back, chest rising and falling in panic.

Waverly’s hand goes slack on her arm, her hand dropping from her side. Nicole stumbles again, crashing to her knees. She keeps Waverly in her arms, holding her up and out of the gravel. Waverly’s head tips to one side lazily, eyes fluttering closed as she tries to look up and focus on Nicole. “Ow,” she says, voice breaking on the word. She pulls at her shirt, hand shaking.

Ward pushes to his feet, rolling his shoulder back. “What the hell was that?” he asks, teeth bared.

“She gave it up,” Wynonna says, still clutching her arm. She holds it out slowly, pulling up the sleeve of her shirt until she gets to her elbow. There’s nothing there. She pants softly. “She gave up her pelt. She broke the curse.”

Ward’s eyes widen. He tears the fabric of his shirt as he pulls it away from his shoulder. It’s bare. His fingers rake across the skin, leaving red marks behind. “Where did it go?”

Virgil rises silently, feeling along the back of his neck. Morgan spins him around but there’s nothing but skin, mark gone. 

Willa tugs at the shirt she’s wearing, pulling it back enough that she can see where her mark should be. “No,” she breathes. She looks up at Waverly, eyes narrowed. “What did you do?”

Waverly stands on unsteady legs, holding onto Nicole as she sways in place. She blinks slowly, shaking her head slightly before she holds up the hem of her shirt. Nicole looks at the smooth stretch of skin. There’s no mark, no crude C with a line cut through it. Just perfect, unmarred skin left behind.

“Waverly,” Nicole whispers. 

Waverly looks up, eyes searching Nicole’s face. “It’s gone.”

“She gave it up,” Wynonna repeats.

“I broke it,” Waverly breathes. She looks at Ward, suddenly standing tall. “I broke your curse.”

Ward shakes his head. “No.” He sticks his hand out. “No, the deal is still on. Your pelt still belongs to me.”

“I broke the curse,” Waverly says again. She looks at Nicole, eyes wide and shining. “I can stay. I gave you my pelt. I… I gave it up. No one took it from me.”

“Waverly,” Ward warns.

Waverly ignores him. She grabs for Nicole’s hands. “I gave you my pelt.” She blinks a few times. “I  _ gave _ it away.”

Nicole smiles. She forgets that Ward is glaring at her and that Willa is taking slow, measured steps towards them. She ignores Virgil and Morgan rising to their full height. She doesn’t think about Wynonna staring at her arm in wonder, fingers tracing where her mark should have been. She only looks at Waverly, looking back at her, and she smiles. She presses her hand to Waverly’s cheek for a moment, fingers curling around her jaw, and she steps closer, leaning down until their foreheads are pressed together.

“You gave it to me,” she says quietly. “Are you sure?”

Waverly’s smile widens. She cups Nicole’s face in her hands, thumbs brushing over Nicole’s cheeks. “I love you,” she says simply. “And I’m staying.”

“You’ll regret this,” Ward spits. Nicole turns to him, angling her body in front of Waverly again. “We’ll be back. I’ll bring everyone. We’ll tear this lighthouse down brick by brick. We’ll leave you with  _ nothing _ .”

Nicole glances at Wynonna. Wynonna nods once, eyes darting to Ward before she looks back at Nicole. She nods a second time.

“You’re not coming back,” Nicole says loudly, mustering as much bravery as she can. She swallows hard against the knot in her throat. “But you’re not going anywhere, either.” She pauses. “Other than really far away from here.”

Ward scoffs. “You think you can tell  _ me _ what to do?”

Nicole nods more confidently than she feels. “I have something you don’t.”

Ward looks back at Willa. She narrows her eyes, glaring. “Oh yeah?” Ward asks, turning back to her. “What’s that?”

“Your pelts.”

Ward looks at her for a moment before he barks out a laugh. He shakes his head. “You’re going to have to do better than that, human.”

Nicole doesn’t blink. “I have your pelts,” she says again.

Ward stops laughing. He looks back at Willa again. She stares at Nicole, her hand still pressed to the center of her chest. Nicole stays steady, shoulders pulled back. Waverly leans into her side, warm and unshakeable.

“No, you don’t,” Ward finally says.

Nicole fights the fear bubbling up in her chest. She has the upper hand. She has their pelts, the ones that Wynonna took and hid away for her. They’ll never find them. But it doesn’t stop the flicker of fear that comes sharply before it fades away. She makes herself taller, the fear replaced by confidence. “Yes,” she says simply. “I do.”

Willa disappears off the edge of the ledge, Ward stomping off behind her. She can hear him shouting something to Willa, something she can’t make out. It sounds angry, furious really, and Nicole smiles to herself for a moment. Waverly squeezes her hand questioningly but Nicole only shakes her head, listening as Ward shouts something loud and unintelligible. 

Nicole turns to Virgil and Morgan. “You’re free to leave,” she tells them. They back up towards the ridge slowly. “If you stay, I’ll take yours too.”

There’s frantic splashing below them and then Ward and Willa are cresting the ridge, their eyes blazing. 

“You  _ stupid _ human,” Willa says, voice low. “Give it back.”

Ward takes a few menacing steps towards her. “You’d do best to give them back.”

“I’m not giving back anything.”

Willa makes a hard noise in the back of her throat. “It doesn’t belong to you.”

Nicole shrugs a shoulder, more carelessly than she feels. “It does now. Yours both do. And I have no intention of giving them back soon. Or at all,” she admits. 

“How did you…” Ward turns to Wynonna. “You,” he hisses, jabbing a finger in her direction. “You did this.”

Wynonna shakes her head sadly. “You did this. If you just let her go… If you just gave it up…”

“This is her  _ birthright _ .”

“It’s her birthright because you decided it was.” Wynonna rubs absently at her arm. “The whole time. This stupid curse. I really thought there was no way…” She looks at Waverly and smiles sadly. “I’m so sorry, baby girl.”

Waverly shakes her head, eyes wet in the corners. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not,” Wynonna says. “But I’m going to spend the rest of my life making it up to you.”

Ward spits in the dirt. “Traitor,” he hisses at Wynonna. “To turn on your family like this.” He looks at Waverly. “Both of you.”

Wynonna snorts. “It’s not like you made it hard to do it.”

“So what now?” Willa folds her arms across her chest, mouth pulled up in a smirk. “You have our pelts. What’s your big plan, then?

Nicole hears the crunch of gravel behind her. “My friend Doc is going to give you a ride.” Nicole hooks her thumb over her shoulder at the truck pulling alongside hers. “He’ll drive you as far as Cook’s Harbour and then you’ll get on a fishing boat from there. It’ll bring you up to the Barents Sea. I have a friend there. They’re looking for a few more deckhands.”

Ward growls. “I’m no fisherman.”

Nicole shrugs. “Then you better learn how to be.”

Willa just keeps staring at her, eyes wide. Nicole ignores how they cut through her. She thinks about Willa pulling Waverly across Shorty’s, Cooper's boat, Willa threatening to do worse than that. She feels anger bubble in her chest and she lets it rage into her stomach. She won’t feel bad about this. Not when this is what’s best for Waverly, when it’s best for them.

“No,” Ward says again. He storms forward, hands clenched into fists at his side. Nicole steadies herself, ready for him to swing.

There’s the sound of a lighter flicking on behind her. Ward comes to a stop and Nicole turns. Doc stands tall behind her, sliding the lighter into his vest. He tucks an unlit cigarette into the breast pocket. “I’m afraid I must intervene on Ms. Haught’s behalf. Ward,” he says, tipping his hat. He winks at Wynonna. 

“Holliday,” Ward spits. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”

Doc laughs softly. “On the contrary, old friend. You and your lovely daughter will be my travel companions as I head North. I have business to attend to, you see.”

Ward scowls, hand flexing at his side. He glares at Nicole, eyes burning. “This isn’t over.”

“Yes,” Nicole says, a small smile on her face. “It is.”

Doc claps his hands together loudly. “Now, I don’t know about you, but I do like to get an early start on the drive. It’ll be many hours, so we’d do our best to get going.”

Ward stands still, eyes still locked on Nicole. Doc clears his throat and Ward blinks first, looking away from Nicole to Doc. His jaw tightens, his mouth pressed into a thin line. 

“Daddy,” Willa says. “We’re not going to do this.”

“Oh,” Nicole says. “Yes, you are.”

Ward doesn’t look back at Willa, eyes on Doc instead. “Let’s go,” he says to her.

“Daddy-”

“I said  _ let’s go _ , Willa.” He finally turns back to look at her. “Now.”

Willa deflates, shoulders sagging. She pins Waverly with a glare, starting to take a step forward when Ward says her name again, the sound sharp and angry. Willa walks by them, throwing her shoulder into Nicole’s as she passes. “We’ll be back,” she hisses. She leans in close. “You’ll regret this.”

Nicole smiles crookedly. “No, I don’t think I will.”

Doc tips his hat at them. “Glad to be of service, Nicole.” He looks at Waverly. “Ms. Earp.” He pauses before he winks one more time at Wynonna. “Wynonna.”

Doc’s engine rumbles as he turns it over. Nicole turns to look at it, Ward and Willa climbing into the bed, matching scowls on their face. Waverly leans into her side, an arm low around her waist. She turns her head, her face pressed into Nicole’s arm. She can feel Waverly’s mouth against her skin, a soft kiss that lingers even after she pulls away. They stand together as the truck backs out of the gravel driveway, and drives away, pointed towards town. She turns her head, pressing a kiss to Waverly’s hair. 

“Well,” Wynonna says loudly from behind them. “This was fun.”

Waverly jumps against Nicole. “Gods,” she breathes as she turns, a hand against her chest. 

Wynonna winces. “Sorry, baby girl.”

Waverly breathes out through her nose, a long stream of air that relaxes her shoulders. She leans heavier into Nicole’s side, letting out a soft laugh. “He’s gone.”

“He is,” Nicole agrees.

Waverly takes Nicole’s hand and places it on her side. “ _ This _ is gone.”

Nicole rubs her fingers softly over Waverly’s skin. “You did it.”

“We did it,” Waverly says over her. “We did it together.” She runs her hand over Nicole’s shoulder and around the back of her neck, pulling her down to kiss her.

It feels different than their other kisses. Freer. Like a dinghy out on the water with nowhere to be and a vast sea ahead of them. She has all the time in the world to kiss Waverly now. She kisses her slowly, memorizing the way Waverly sighs into her mouth and leans into her. It sits with the rest of the things she filed away about Waverly. Now she doesn’t have to keep them locked away in her mind. Waverly is real under her hands. Waverly is staying. 

“Do you need me for this?” Wynonna asks. She shakes her head. “You don’t need me for this. Right.” She rubs at her arm again, looking at the spot where the mark had been. “Damn. A broken curse. Ward and Willa banished to… did you send them to  _ Russia _ ?”

Nicole feels her face flush. “They’ve got good year-round fishing?”

Wynonna barks out a laugh. “Russia.” She points a finger at Waverly. “Your girlfriend sent him to  _ Russia _ .”

Waverly smiles and lifts onto her toes to kiss Nicole’s cheek. “Wherever he went, he’s not here.”

Nicole shakes her head, resting her chin on the top of Waverly’s head. “He’s never going to come back here again.” She says it like a promise. And it is. She’ll never mean anything as much as she means this. She thinks of telling Waverly  _ I love you _ and then changes her mind. She’ll never mean anything almost as much as she means.

“Where’d you put them?” she asks Wynonna.

Wynonna looks at her for a minute before she shrugs her shoulders. “You going to be cool if I don’t tell you that?”

Nicole thinks about it for a moment. She wants to know. She wants to know in case Ward and Willa make their way back to Purgatory and try to get them back. She wants to know because it would tie this up and they could start to put all of this behind him. She wants to know because she’s still not sure if she trusts Wynonna. But then she looks at Waverly looking at Wynonna and she decides it’s not about whether or not she trusts Wynonna. Waverly does.

She shrugs her own shoulders. “Fine by me.”

Wynonna seems to relax at that. “Nice.” She looks at the two of them again before she claps her hands. “Right. I’m gonna bounce. There’s a whole mess of selkies out there without a curse holding them back. They’ve got some living to do.”

Waverly takes a step forward. “You’ll come back?”

Wynonna waves her off. “With that smokeshow Doc here?” She softens. “And you, obviously. Of course I’ll be back. You might want to set up a room for me in there,” she says, pointing at the lighthouse. “I’ll be here all the time.”

Waverly smiles widely.

Wynonna sighs. “Okay, okay. Get over here before I change my mind.”

Waverly rushes her, hugging Wynonna tightly. She holds on, her face pressed into Wynonna’s shoulder. Nicole watches Wynonna’s eyes close, her nose pressed into Waverly’s hair. She sees Wynonna’s mouth moving as she whispers something only Waverly can hear. When Waverly pulls back, she blinks, clearing her eyes.

“Now, go,” Wynonna says, voice rough.

Waverly slips back across the gravel into Nicole’s side. “Bye,” she whispers to Wynonna.

Wynonna winks, eyes shining a little, before she looks at Nicole. “Take care of her.”

“Of course.” Nicole nods and gives Wynonna a smile. “Of course I will.”

Wynonna salutes her and takes a few steps backward before she turns around and dips over the ledge, disappearing down the rocky path. Nicole listens to the waves lapping against the rocks and her ankles before there’s a soft splash, Wynonna breaking the surface. She watches the horizon. Something crests, a seal-shape coming up out of the water. It bobs there in the water, looking back at the shore. Waverly squeezes Nicole’s waist gently as it dives back under the water and doesn’t resurface. 

Nicole turns them around, her arm across Waverly’s shoulders as they look up at the lighthouse looming over them. It stands tall. This is her home. This is her birthright. She was made for the water just as much as anyone in this seaside town. She was made to guide the boats into shore. To guide them home. She was made for this. She was made for Waverly. She’s sure of it. 

“Let’s go home,” she tells Waverly. She takes a step forward. Waverly stands where she is, looking up at the lighthouse with wonder in her eyes. 

Nicole looks up at the gallery deck. She wants to sit there with Waverly and a book and a cup of tea and now that their time isn’t short, they have nothing to fear. She wants to waste hours staring at the horizon until the sun goes down on it. She looks back at Waverly, smiling softly as she reaches out her hand.

“Home,” Waverly breathes. “Yeah. Let’s go home."   
  



	12. standing at the end of the dock at sunset

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nicole watches them for a minute, these people who became her family. It’s weird. It was just her aunt for so long. Then it was just her.
> 
> But then a woman got herself stuck in the rocks and now Nicole has this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there it is, folks. Thank you for coming along for the ride. I won't lie and tell you that you didn't make it worth it. Sometimes you have to write a story for yourself, but this one was for you. And if you got this far, I hope something good happens to you today or tomorrow or the next day.

_ EPILOGUE, 1 year later _

  
A boat blows its horn as it drifts into the dock with a gentle  _ thud. _ Nicole puts a hand up over her eyes, shielding herself from the sun as she leans up against the tailgate. Waverly sits behind her, a leg on either side of Nicole, and the point of her chin resting on Nicole’s shoulder. Her arms are low round Nicole’s waist, her fingers playing with the front of the flannel Nicole pulled down out of the closet this morning. The mornings are getting cool again, the late September summer fading into early fall. 

Someone waves from the boat. Nicole can feel Waverly smile.

“Do you think she’ll stay long this time?” Waverly says quietly in her ear.

Nicole covers Waverly’s hands with her own. “Hopefully.”

“She can’t have my room.”

Nicole turns to look at Rachel Valdez. “You don’t want to bunk with Wynonna?”

Rachel wrinkles her nose. “She smells like seawater.”

Waverly laughs, the sound light and airy like a sea breeze. “We all smell like seawater.”

Rachel shakes her head. “She smells like  _ old _ seawater.”

“I don’t think that’s-” Nicole stops when Rachel turns to stare at her. She holds her hands up in front of her. “Okay. Old seawater. Got it.” She smiles when Rachel turns back to the docks, leaning away from Waverly to look at her.

Rachel tucks her hair behind her ear, the fringe of her leather jacket moving with the motion. It’s the one she pulled off the coat rack, the one Wynonna left behind the last time she was in Purgatory. Rachel idolizes Wynonna, even if she plays it cool when Wynonna is around.

“She’s cool, or whatever,” Rachel will say, as if she doesn’t care. But she’s always waiting with them at the docks whenever Wynonna’s boat comes back in. 

Cooper’s new boat docks and Nicole watches as Wynonna jumps off, Perry right behind her as they tie the boat to the cleat, looping it around tightly. Perry looks up at them and waves. Wynonna follows his eyes, a smile on her face as she turns to face them. It twists comically when she spots Rachel, Wynonna shaking her finger in their direction.

Next to her, Rachel snorts and leans back, elbows on the tailgate. She kicks up some loose rocks, the dust clouding around her ankles before it settles again.

Nicole walks her fingers up and down Waverly’s legs, from her thighs to the tops of her knees. She feels Waverly shift under her touch, her breath hot against Nicole’s neck. Nicole presses her hands flat against Waverly’s thighs, feeling the warmth of her skin through the denim of her jeans. Waverly turns her face into Nicole’s, kissing her cheek.

“Barf,” Rachel says under her breath. She looks up when they both turn to her. “What? I said scarf.” She points at the small scarf around Waverly’s neck. “Scarf. Which, like, it’s cold, but it’s not  _ cold. _ Why’re you wearing that?”

Waverly leans away from Nicole and pulls at the soft wool scarf. “I’m just used to being warmer.”

“Because of the-” Rachel looks around. “The sealskin?”

Waverly’s lips twitch in a smile. “Yeah, because of that.”

“Cool,” Rachel breathes. She stares at Waverly with wonder in her eyes. The same wonder that’s been there since the moment Waverly told Rachel about where she went for long periods of time, coming back with wet hair and wet clothes.

Rachel is still new to Purgatory and the lighthouse and their secret. She got off a bus eight months ago, a note from her mom to the Black Badge offices, asking them to put her up for a few months. Nedley had called her and asked her to come down to see if she could spare a room while Rachel waited. Nicole wasn’t sure. They were still waiting for Ward to come back any day, even if Shae said he was out in the middle of the ocean on a boat, miserable. They had Waverly’s sealskin under the bed. They had enough to worry about without adding a grouchy sixteen-year-old to the mix.

But Rachel dragged her things into the lighthouse and fell in love with it. She spent hours on the gallery deck, listening to Nicole go on about the mechanics of the place, listening to Waverly tell her all about the sea. Nicole watched the way she filed it all, the wheels in her head turning as they told her more and more about their home and their life. They finally told her about the sealskin after a few months, sitting her down with a cup of tea and showing her where it was hidden under the floorboards.

Rachel had so many questions. Nicole left her with Waverly and when she came back, they had books all over the floor, plotting a history of selkies and the folklore. Rachel turned the back of her closet door into a living timeline, staring at it for hours. Nicole could only pull her away if she promised to let her help take the lantern apart.

Waverly’s fingers twist in Nicole’s flannel and she turns her head, looking at the dock as some of the crew starts to walk up towards the Black Badge office, some of them still on the boat. They’ll pull the haul in, sort it out, and report it to Mr. Nedley before they can head home or to Shorty’s. Wynonna and Perry had pulled the short straw last run, docking in the early afternoon and crawling their way to Shorty’s close to the end of the day. Nicole watches Bryce Cooper start to raise the net above, his hand on the ripcord to let the haul loose.

“Hey,” Chrissy calls from across the parking lot. She closes the distance between them, leaning against the side of the truck. “Think they’ll be in longer this time?”

Nicole looks back at the boat. It’s brand new, named The Miller’s Daughter. There’s a small plaque under the wheel with Josh Miller’s name on it, the inscription  _ “All my life I live within - in front of the water” _ etched into the gold. 

“I’m not sure,” Nicole says. Waverly’s hand smoothes down the plane of her stomach. “They’ll probably make a push to get back out there before it gets too cold.”

Chrissy sighs. She smiles when Rachel turns to look back at her. “Cooper Sr. is thinking of retiring after the season, you know. He’ll probably bump Bryce up to Captain, but…” She looks around. “Bryce said that if he does retire, they’re going to make Perry First Mate.”

Nicole smiles widely. “That’ll be great.”

“Longer hours.” Chrissy rolls her eyes. “But doesn’t he already work those?”

Perry says something as he crests the dock into the parking lot, bumping his shoulder into Wynonna’s. Chrissy squeals, high and light, and rushes him, throwing her arms around his neck. They sway but Perry steadies them, dropping his bag to the ground. Wynonna makes a gagging sound at the two of them and keeps walking towards the truck. Waverly squeezes Nicole’s side quickly and slips around her, two feet hitting the ground with a solid  _ thud _ . Nicole moves into Rachel, dropping her arm around Rachel’s shoulder.

“Ready for the waterworks?” Rachel mutters.

Nicole purses her lips. “Five bucks and raking for a week if Wynonna is the one who cries first.”

Rachel snorts. “Please. Your girlfriend got emotional about  _ The Little Mermaid _ .”

“I think she was crying because of the inaccuracies, actually.”

Rachel considers it for a moment before she shrugs. “Either way.”

Nicole pulls the end of Rachel’s hair lightly, grinning when Rachel scowls and flips her hair over her shoulder. Wynonna hefts her bag higher on her shoulder, slowing her walk down the way she does when she’s trying not to care about something. She meets Nicole’s eyes and smirks as Waverly bounces at Nicole’s side.

Wynonna drops her bag at her feet and shoves her hands in her pockets. “What? No welcome sign?”

Waverly ignores her, grabbing Wynonna by the arms and pulling her in tightly, her face pressed to Wynonna’s shoulder.

“Happy Birthday, baby girl,” Wynonna says into Waverly’s hair, just loud enough for Nicole to hear.

Waverly hugs her tighter.

Wynonna finally pulls away, blinking hard against the wetness pooling in the corner of her eyes a few times before she turns to Nicole. “Haught,” she says, her voice low and serious.

Nicole matches her tone. “Earp.”

They stare at each other for a long minute before Waverly sighs heavily and smacks Nicole’s arm gently. “You know, this doesn’t get any funnier each time you do it.”

Wynonna grins first, reaching out to shove lightly at Nicole’s shoulder. “How’s my bestie?”

“I’m still right here, you know,” Chrissy cuts in. She gives Wynonna a long look, her eyebrow raised. “Best friend since, like, forever.”

“Haught told me, I’m sorry.” Wynonna pats her arm. “No take-backs.”

“I was very drunk,” Nicole points out. She turns to Chrissy. “Like, Champ-left-for-the-rodeo drunk.”

Chrissy winces a little. “Wow. That drunk.”

Nicole nods. “That drunk.”

She thinks about Champ for a moment. He left Purgatory months ago, his saddle in the front seat of his pickup right next to Stephanie Jones, their combined savings in the glove compartment. He spent weeks after Ward left skulking around town, glaring at them and pouting. Stephanie had found him holding up the bar in Shorty’s and curled into his side, convincing him that Purgatory is the last place they should be. It didn’t take him long to get over Waverly and pack up his truck, leaving Purgatory in his rearview mirror. Nicole wasn’t sad to see him go. She even had a drink in his honor, then a few more after that.

Wynonna had matched her drink for drink and they stumbled back to the lighthouse together, talking about crappy fathers and life by the sea. They had climbed up to the gallery deck, chins resting on the metal rails.

“I don’t know that I want to go back into the ocean,” Wynonna had admitted. “Like,  _ into _ , you know? My mom brought me to land when I was younger and the whole…” She ran a hand over her body. “It’s kind of appealing when you spend all your time in sealskin. Ward and Willa loved it, you know? But I was never like them. Waves and I have always been different. But Waverly likes it. She likes going back.” She sighed. “I don’t think I want to. I love the water, but…”

Nicole had turned, taking in Wynonna for a moment. “There’re different ways to go back to the water, you know.”

Wynonna seemed to consider it. “Like what?”

“Well, I know Mr. Cooper is looking for a deckhand.” Nicole looked back out over the water. The lantern swung, catching on something in the distance for a fleeting moment. “If you wanted to.”

Wynonna had gone down to the docks a few days later, talking with Mr. Cooper for a while before he clapped her on the shoulder and passed her a pair of waders. She boarded the  _ Miller’s Daughter _ for the next run. 

“Drunk or not, Haught.” Wynonna loops an arm around Nicole’s neck, pulling her down and rubbing her knuckles into the top of Nicole’s head. “It’s law now.”

Chrissy rolls her eyes but doesn’t say anything, leaning into Perry instead. She likes Wynonna. When they go out to Shorty’s, she always sits next to Wynonna. Nicole has no idea what they talk about, but they’ll go on for hours. Nicole usually ends up hauling them both out of the door and into her truck. They blast bad 90s songs Wynonna just learned and hang out the windows.

Nicole ducks out of Wynonna’s hold, reaching for Waverly instead. She pulls Waverly into her side, her arm dropping across Waverly’s shoulders. She turns her head, pressing a kiss into Waverly’s hair. She breathes in the saltwater.

Wynonna moves past them, grinning at Rachel. Rachel rolls her eyes and pushes her hands into her pockets but Wynonna grabs her anyway, pulling her into the same knuckle rub she did to Nicole. Rachel grunts and pushes hard against Wynonna. Wynonna just holds her tighter, laughing when Rachel struggles to get away.

“Go help her,” Waverly says after a minute of watching them wrestle.

“Which one?”

Waverly scoffs at her and Nicole flashes a grin before she wedges her way between Rachel and Wynonna. Rachel rubs at her head but she smiles, turned away like no one can see her. Wynonna throws an arm around Waverly’s shoulder, resting her chin on the top of Waverly’s head, eyes closed. 

Nicole knows she misses land. She misses Waverly and Nicole and even Rachel. She misses drinking at Shorty’s and late nights on the gallery deck with a flask of whiskey. She misses sleeping on the couch in the living room and poking at Rachel until Rachel huffs and puffs and threatens to pour seawater in her shoes. Nicole knows she misses it because she tells her up on that gallery deck, halfway into her whiskey.

“But this is for the best,” she told Nicole. “I can’t stay in one place too long, you know? I get the water and I get this.” She looked at Nicole out of the corner of her eye. “It’s nice to come home to something.”

Wynonna puts two fingers into her mouth and whistles. Nicole startles a little, shaking her thoughts out of her head. Rachel smirks and jumps up onto the tailgate, pulling it closed behind her before she settles herself in the corner of the bed closest to the window. She stretches her arms out along the rails and looks expectantly at Nicole. Nicole will remind her that she’s got a week of raking to do later. Waverly and Wynonna walk around the truck and slide into the passenger side, Waverly settling in the middle of the bench. Nicole watches them for a minute, these people who became her family. It’s weird. It was just her aunt for so long. Then it was just her.

But then a woman got herself stuck in the rocks and now Nicole has this. A woman she loves, a kid who sleeps too late and eats all of her food, and a wandering best friend who comes and goes like the tide. She watches over each of them, a lighthouse keeper guiding them to shore.

“Let’s go!” Wynonna shouts, twisting out of the open window. She sits on the frame, tapping out a tune on the top of the cab. “I need a shower. I smell like-”

“Old seawater,” Rachel finishes.

Wynonna snaps her fingers at Rachel.  _ “That’s _ what that is. Old seawater.”

Rachel turns to look at Nicole a  _ “see” _ look on her face.

Nicole holds up a hand and rounds the truck, climbing into the driver’s side. She puts the keys in the ignition and turns it, Wynonna already fiddling with the knob on the radio. She picks up the station coming out of Glovertown and leans back in the seat, sighing.

“Cooper won’t sing anything but shanties. One day my ears are going to start bleeding.”

Nicole grins as she shifts it into drive, looking back over her shoulder to make sure Rachel is set to go. She presses the pedal to the floorboard and turns out of the dock lot, pointing the truck towards the lighthouse stretched out before them, standing tall against the horizon.

-

Nicole watches the water move around something she can’t see, the current going in and out before it settles again. She stands tall, her shadow out behind her as the sun finishing sinking in the sky in the distance. She closes her eyes and smiles as she hears a small splash beneath her. She holds the blanket in her hands tight against her chest.

Waverly climbs over the small ridge, twisting her wet hair until the water drips from it. She smiles at Nicole and steps into the blanket Nicole is holding out, pulling it tightly around her. She hums softly under her breath. “This is nice.”

Nicole hooks a thumb over her shoulder towards the lighthouse. “Rachel and Wynonna are starting to argue about that show with the gun that kills magical creatures.”

“Ah.” Waverly leans into Nicole, eyes closing for a moment.

Nicole rubs her hands over Waverly’s arms. “Good swim?”

Waverly smiles, leaning away. “Water’s getting cold.”

“Winter is coming,” Nicole says, lowering her voice. She grins when Waverly smiles and rolls her eyes. 

Winter  _ is _ coming, though. The air is cold when the sun is low in the sky. It bites at Nicole’s hands when she stands in the big window in the living room, watching as the lantern starts to fade as the sky gets lighter each morning. The fishing boats are starting to slow down now, fewer going out and in. Cooper’s boat will run as long as it can and then Wynonna will move with them for a few months until it gets a little warmer. Nicole doesn’t mind. Waverly is always happier than usual when Wynonna stays.

Waverly back into her. “I should get my pelt.”

“We’ll get it in a minute.” Nicole thinks about the pelt tucked away in the rocks, in a small space that Nicole carved out. It took weeks and cost her callouses on her hands that are still there if she rubs her fingers over them the right way. 

“This was a good birthday.” Waverly’s breath is damp through Nicole’s thin t-shirt. Her hair soaks a spot into the fabric. She shivers a little bit and Nicole holds her closer. “Even if that cake was…”

Nicole winces a little. “Rachel tried. I just think that kombucha is… not to be cooked with. By her.” Waverly laughs softly and Nicole sways side to side gently. “Let’s get inside before you turn to ice.”

“Let’s go up,” Waverly says instead, pulling the blanket tighter around her shoulders as she walks. Her bare legs stretch out from under it and Nicole follows them with her eyes for a minute before she catches up, her shoulder bumping against Waverly’s. She thinks of the pelt. She’ll come down before they go to bed and tuck it away under the floorboards where she hid it that first time.

There, just beneath their bed. In case Waverly ever wants to take it and leave.

They climb the stairs together, going past the front door and further up to the lantern room. The light is bright and catches in Waverly’s hair as they edge around it, their shadows large and black in the glass windows as it spins. Waverly slips out the door first while Nicole grabs a second blanket they leave up here for when they want to come sit on the gallery deck.

There’s a little more of a breeze up here, drifting up from the water. Nicole lays down the blanket before Waverly sits. She pulls the blanket she’s wearing up around her shoulders and leans into Nicole’s arm, her head dropping to Nicole’s shoulder.

“I went out to the rocks,” Waverly says after a minute. “I didn’t stay. I’m not sure I could.” Nicole turns to look at her. “I love the water. I love swimming. But I think… I’m not one of them anymore. I’m  _ me _ . And I’m not going to stop going into the water, but I don’t fit in there anymore.”

Nicole presses her lips to Waverly’s cool forehead. “I’m sorry, baby.”

“Don’t be sorry. Wynonna and I have always been different.”

Nicole hums softly. “So I’ve heard.”

Waverly sighs, curling her fingers around Nicole’s arm. “This was a good birthday.”

“You said that.”

“It was good enough that I needed to say it twice.” Waverly’s eyes flash as the light spins above their heads. “I was worried Wynonna wasn’t going to make it home.”

Nicole doesn’t say that they weren’t going to be back in time until Wynonna offered half her paycheck to Cooper in exchange for taking a day off their run. She stays quiet instead, letting the darkness settle over them comfortably. These are her favorite moments, just the two of them in this place that feels like it belongs to them. She comes up here with Wynonna, with Rachel. But with Waverly, it feels like  _ theirs _ . 

“Chrissy and Rosita want to do something down at Shorty’s tomorrow night, if you’re up for it.”

Waverly nods against Nicole’s arm. “That’d be nice. It’s been a couple weeks since we saw them.”

“Oh, no.” Nicole shakes her head. “No, I’m dropping you off. You guys get all… loud. And Rosita puts on terrible music. No.” She shakes her head again. “No, Rachel and Wynonna and I are going to stay home. Play Scrabble or something.”

“Wynonna is going to play Scrabble?”

Nicole thinks about it for a minute. “Well, if we let her make dirty words, she might.”

Waverly pinches Nicole’s arm. “Not with Rachel there.”

Nicole snorts. “Please. If you don’t think they’re down their talking about what Wynonna does with Doc, you’re a whole year older and a lot more senile.”

“Poor Rachel,” Waverly says sadly.

“Poor us.” Nicole shrugs at Waverly’s look. “We have to deal with the both of them for the next week. And then when Cooper is done for the season? Our lives are going to be full of homemade kombucha, Wynonna’s clothes all over the living room floor, a fridge full of just salsa and crappy beer, and Rachel up until all hours. She’ll sleep even later than she already does.”

Waverly snorts. “You kind of love it, though.”

Nicole is quiet for a long moment before she whispers, “Yeah, kind of.”

The lantern spins gracefully along the surface of the water. If Nicole looks hard enough, she thinks she might be able to see the red blinking lights far away, boats on their way home to shore. She kicks her feet through the air. The lighthouse has a new coat of paint. The plaster at the bottom is seamless. Her aunt’s highbush cranberry plant is out of season but still sitting at the base of the lighthouse, waiting patiently for the next bloom. She planted Labrador tea next to it after Waverly said how much she loved it. It’s hers, still, but it’s slowly become  _ theirs _ . Hers and Waverly’s and Rachel’s and Wynonna’s. 

They’re the lighthouse keepers. This is their home. 

She thinks of standing on this gallery deck for the first time and looking out as far as she could, seeing nothing but water and water and more water. She thinks of feeling so small compared to this big tower she was going to call home now. Her aunt had promised her she’d love it, if she let herself. That she’d come to love watching over the sea and the things that called it home, the mermaids and the sirens and the selkies. That she’d be the lighthouse keeper one day. That it would all be hers. 

The lantern stretches across the black horizon and the black water roiling slowly beneath them and she thinks that she’s only loved a few things in this world. Waverly and the sea and this lighthouse.

It’s all she’ll ever need.


End file.
